


Princess Poison

by flowersforjoy



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character(s) of Color, Curses, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Ensemble Cast, Established Relationship, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Magic, Main Romance Between M! OC and Trans F!, Mild Language, Openly Gay OC, Original Character(s), Other, Romance, Soft Magic System, Trans Female Character, Transgender, Transphobic Dialogue, Witch Curses, Witch Hunters, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 53,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforjoy/pseuds/flowersforjoy
Summary: [Complete]Lawrence Bane's mother was a witch, and she died during his birth granting him with her witch power; the power to track any living thing.As a poor 25 year old scraping to get by Lawrence uses his power for mostly good tracking people's lost pets and loved ones to make some spare coin to eventually fund his dream house, so that he can one day marry and have lots of kids.Unfortunately not as easy as he planned until, one fateful night after all seems hopeless, a Witch Hunter known only as "King" grants him the opportunity of a lifetime to make a decades worth of cash.All he has to do is locate King's subordinate "Princess." It all sounds too good to be true, and that's because it is.
Relationships: OC/OC, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter One

The coin purse felt heavy in Lawrence’s pocket as he climbed through the small window in the storage closet of his local tavern, through it shown a single strand of moonlight. He could envision the look of disappointment and embarrassment that would no doubt overtake the eyes of anyone who’d be up this late to witness it. A 25 year old man sneaking out like a love stricken, tight panted virgin. The night was dark, so dark in fact that anyone would struggle to see their hand before their face, just another reason why sneaking out so late was ideal. 

His reputation remained in good standing, though. It wasn’t big enough to have the poor excuse for guards suspicious of him but not small enough to keep him from a job. He had to thank local tyke Henry for running away from home so that his parents were desperate enough to ask for his assistance in retrieving him. They were the easiest 5 silvers he’d ever made, that was for sure. He couldn’t tear his mind away from his pocket, worried that every weighted step would become light and he’d get pickpocketed by some vengeful demon. Though it was highly unlikely, he didn’t disregard it. After all, that was the line of work he’d found himself in. This was the biggest reward he’d been given in months and no thug, nor demon, would take it from him.

He’d lived here in this shitty tavern since he was 16 years old, in a little room, tucked at the back and snuck in and out of day and night.

All his days were spent catching a wink or so of sleep, digging through trash cans, traveling to meet his employers, and to catch his those he was hired to retrieve.

He’d taken all the necessary precautions- traveling a good 15 minutes or so from his cubby hole out into the only graveyard in this godforsaken place. Because whose dying wish is to be buried in the Liar’s Province anyway? 

Lawrence concluded moments later that it was unfair to say so, not everyone had a dying wish or had any choice in where they were buried. By this town's standards burial was a gift not many received, as some were lucky to have their bodies removed from the streets. He found a bit of comfort in that his mother was one of the lucky ones.

A witch who’d been buried. He hadn’t known her, his aunt had only bad things to say about strangers, she never uttered a negative thing about her sister. He crouched before the tombstone and rubbed it like he would a sickly patient. The leftover grime being rubbed off by his fingers to reveal his mother’s name, Iris Bane. 

“Rest well, mother,” He whispered, “I’m close, I’m so close- I’ve got just enough for the foundation- perhaps two walls? That or I’m being hopeful. I’m more impatient though, a home of my own.” He said smiling.

Lawrence had envisioned a foreign place, it wasn’t concrete enough to sketch it but wasn’t abstract enough to not understand it. Simply, it was a house of gold. Tall and grandiose yet compact and easy to sweep. The clouds would swell with rainwater in the summer and threaten his fortress with their overwhelming presence. He’d barred the doors and windows taking up shelter underground where he’d hide his wife and three children. His eldest would join him in retrieving the family dog from within the confines of the house. All his hard work would be tested and he and his wife knowing the great extent of damage a single bad storm could do would pray silently whilst reassuring their children with chaste kisses and a strong grip on their shoulders. When the awful sounds of the massive storm droned off he’d take the lead by opening the chamber for the first time in days keeping his family at bay with his hand. When he emerged from the dusty and almost suffocating shelter he’d take a look at his house still stood tall and bless the gods and himself. He’d turn and beckon them to see the morning sun and would proceed with their work as if nothing had ever happened. Taking his picture perfect wife by her waist and raising her in the air to spin her and take her into a warm embrace. Paradise.

Paradise wasn’t far away, it was actually the next town over. He’d been a couple times on some jobs but he'd never been there long enough to know any of its people and he was thankful for that fact. Like this town, they were tight pocketed and pathetic. When did everyone’s pockets become so tight anyhow?, thought Lawrence, though he already knew the answer to that. The fact that he managed to make any money at all by locals was a miracle and though he was steadily approaching his goal he was also realizing that his trips to this graveyard were growing fewer and farther apart.

He could leave this terrible place and make his own heaven placing it high on a hill so that people could see how he’d made it. 

He did everything humanly possible not to let that discourage him.

Lawrence dug just behind the grave where all his earnings were. The only physical evidence of his progress. He reached to retrieve the coin as he always had before.

There was nothing. 

And that wasn't Lawrence’s pessimism talking. It was the horrific, gut wrenching truth. 

The hole had been dug up, and there was no trace of where the money had gone. A cold sweat ran down his back, he looked around checking if he’d made a simple mistake and maybe dug up the wrong grave?  
That of course wasn't it, it was the same one he’d always had- Iris Bane’s. 

Lawrence slammed his fist into the ground and began to hyperventilate. “Where the, where is it? Where did I? Who the-? How? Who would dig up a grave? What sick bastard?” 

He slammed his head alongside his fists in the soft dirt, his whole body tense and red. What was he to do? All his work? Gone just like that? After he'd been so cautious as well; what scum would go out of there way to undo all his years of work?

He shed horrible burning tears and wailed into the dirt. The droplets of rain that remained from the last rain fell silently and Lawrence contemplated just making home here to bury himself along with his mother.

He’d been defeated in a moment, without warning. 

His cries and rhetorical questions weren’t directed at anyone but, they were received.

It was silent outside of Lawrence’s sobbing but soon he could hear the familiar clink of coins. He shot up tear stained and sniffling. He saw it. A man stood atop his mother’s gravestone tossing the coins as if to taunt him and Lawrence jumped to his feet unsheathing a dagger from his boot. He held it out enough to threaten but close enough to defend himself. The man large and dark, mainly because he was cloaked in a giant leather trench coat. His skin ghostly, untouched by sun with his hair draping to his broad and huge shoulders. 

In a fight Lawrence could already see him being a challenge, as he was nearly three times his size. Where Lawrence was average to the other men in his village, he felt like an inexperienced nobleman before this behemoth. 

The man's hair was black and lengthy as opposed to Lawrence’s cropped brown. He didn’t appear feminine by any means, but he was otherworldly in appearance. A witch perhaps? 

The man chuckled and Lawrence could only feel one emotion. His heart sped up and pounded against his ribs, teeth clenching, and nostrils flaring. He pointed the knife further away from himself and spoke hoarsely, “You are in possession of my wealth, if you return it now you can avoid the death that no doubt awaits you.”

“Wealth? Is that what you call it?” The trench coat wearing bastard dropped the coins on the floor. Lawrence ran to retrieve them as they scattered and was met with a boot to the head, throwing him back. It knocked the wind out of him when he hit the floor, clutching his chest in agony, he suppressed a cry trying to escape him. Somehow it hurt worse keeping it in.

He had one mission and that was to escape with the 5 silvers he’d made today and start all over. If he died he’d have no chance, but if he ran away he’d have no chance of protecting his future family from a home invader. 

“This wealth, this pocket change is a very small portion of the wealth that awaits you.” 

Lawrence shook his head enduring the pain that was flooding into his brain, “That’s years of hard work. I’ve spent 15 years doing all sorts of jobs for that money. I don’t care if it compares to yours or not.”

“It’s not my wealth that I hope to discuss. What if I told you I could give you enough coin to never work another day in your life?”

“You’re full of shit!” Lawrence revolted throwing a ball of mud at him, ultimately missing and hitting his mother’s gravestone instead. He could have cried right then and there,with his fist throbbing, but his adrenaline still in his ears.

“You can’t possibly hope to live any sort of life with this.” He said, gesturing to the shillings that lay all across the graveyard now.

“You’re a tracker right? You can help me find a comrade of mine. They’ve been captured by a witch. If you help me find them, I’ll pay you all you need and more.”


	2. Chapter Two

Lawrence didn’t respond. How could he? He didn't know this man from Adam nor whether his wealth could match or overshadow his or not. Seeing the confusion in Lawrence’s eyes, the man smiled snarky, a smile that somehow made Lawrence even more unsettled. 

“I’m King. The witch hunter in the south-most region. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” 

“Never.” Lawrence deadpanned, King didn’t shift like Lawrence hoped he would have. 

“The Princess has been captured and I don’t know where she could be.” King put simply. 

“You had no problem finding me.” Lawrence pointed out, feeling very clever when he did so. King looks over his shoulder and out popped a shaggy black dog that emerged from its shadow still as deathly silent as it was before. If he hadn’t been looking directly at it he’d forget it’s there, Lawrence however didn’t forget.

“This is the Princess’ hound. Belladonna. “She helped me track you.” Lawrence felt haunted, but his face must have shown disgust. 

A tracker being tracked, what irony this was.

“Don’t act like your tracking isn’t unsettling. You’ve gained the witch's’ power. I have to say I’d never expected someone like you to kill anyone yet alone something as strong as a witch. Perhaps I underestimated you.” “I’ve never killed anyone!” 

King grinned, “Your power says otherwise.”

“My mother was a witch. This is her grave, she died during childbirth.”

“The son of a monster then.”

“Monster?” Lawrence choked out, how dare he just right her off like that. Without even having known her, the woman’s bones lay just beneath their feet and he had the gall to say such a thing. Lawrence’s throat congested and his eyes burned from oncoming tears. All the angrier it made him when he had to now force back those same tears.

“Witches, like your late mother are monsters; twisted things- they resemble women but truly they are demons preying on innocent people.”

“That can’t be true of all witches?” Lawrence attempts to reason.

“It’s as true as your being male. It’s what you are! It’s who you’ll always be. Have you ever encountered one?”

“I have.”

“Oh? And what happened?”

“She was my aunt, not a very kind woman I admit but she never hurt anyone.”

“To your knowledge.”

Lawrence was left silent, giving King the perfect chance to tack on another point.

“You were spared from her wrath because you were kin. Nothing more. Count yourself lucky your being born was a blessing, saved many lives even if it wasn’t the intention,”   
King turns an eye to Lawrence, “What of your aunt, is she still alive?” 

“She isn't.” Lawrence says quickly, swallowing deeply and avoiding King’s gaze; because of King’s tone, Lawrence wouldn’t have told him even if she was. For the first time he was happy his aunt was dead. Admittedly, he gone a long time without thinking about her. 

Luckily, King didn’t prod him any further, at least, not about his aunt. 

“Then your power, what do you require in order to activate it?”

Lawrence’s eyebrows rose, “You assume it's not an immediate effect?”

King was quiet and suddenly shook his head, “I hunt witches fool, I’m aware of how their powers tend to work.”

“Well you’re right, in order to track someone I need a piece of them, something they’ve been around for long periods of time. Nails and hair have the strongest results, if I use anything else I usually lose track halfway through.”

“I see,” King said thinking. And then something clicked in him. “The Princess’ hairbrush in my chamber,”

Lawrence looked at King for a moment but he couldn't be cracked for more information than that.

“I’m just glad you don’t need to sacrifice children to activate your powers.” King said after a long moment of silence.

Lawrence rolled his eyes, “Nothing so extreme I assure you. This princess then, did she make you King of some land or something?”

King laughed, actually laughed and it felt strange mainly because a man with such fine features looked like he’d actually crack up if he well, you know,- cracked up.

“Are you not familiar with the Noble House Witch Hunters?”

“Never heard of it.”

“We use code names to protect our identity, some witches can use your name and appearance against you. I am the leader, so I’m ranked King followed by my colleagues the Prince, Princess, Duke, Duchess, Marquess, and Chancellor. The Princess is my second in command.”

“Where are your other subordinates then?”

“Hibernation, we take off for the winter for families, traveling, and other personal affairs. I never know where they go, it's only until we meet up again in the spring do I find out where they've been, but I don't ask. A fool mistake now that I think about it. Never the matter, I don’t have until spring, the princess has been captured! You will do the tracking and I will do the rescuing. The second that witch is dead you will get your money, it’s that simple,” It didn’t sound all that simple.

“Now is there anything else I can get to accommodate you, because Bella and I intend to leave at Dawn.” King says looking tired of conversation despite the fact that he's been doing all the talking. Or perhaps maybe that was why he was so tired.

Lawrence nods feeling unpleasant. 

King doesn’t need more than that, “Then we will meet at the town entrance- don't keep me waiting, Bane,”


	3. Chapter Three

Lawrence finds himself in the tavern, the one he's been in ever since his Aunt was killed- which wasn’t so bad when you consider that living with his aunt and living in this place were both remotely the same situation. 

Lawrence came and went as he pleased. The elderly couple of tavern owners only acknowledged him- a wife often bedridden and a husband monotonously counting down the days until her inevitable death. 

Lawrence assumed he was one of the lucky ones, he’d been found out years ago now. The older man hadn’t pursued him any farther, hardly showing anger or concern, just contentment, accepting his situation. 

Perhaps Lawrence hadn’t caused enough trouble to be concerned, or they had no better use for the room anyhow.

It could have been compassion in its rawest and simplest form, a trait developed over many years of life.

One that became apart of them when death stood so close to the door.

It could very likely be kindness, though Lawrence hadn’t encountered such a thing in a decade- nor could he recognize it- it was careful to assume they let him stay because it was easier too. They were old and hadn’t the strength nor the willpower to be rid of him. 

They didn't lose anything by his being there, at least he assumed that was the case. He actively avoided stepping on their toes or letting other patrons catch on. Which proved a lot easier than he’d ever expected it to be, considering many of the loyal customers were piss drunk half the time or plastered against the floors of the dusty tavern. 

Home to some. Home to Lawrence.

Many patrons made friends with absolute strangers and continued to meet with these people again and again over the years, fastening bonds between them to last for generations. Fathers who'd brought their sons with them had grown up here, eventually became fathers themselves and the cycle continued as such.

They sang, yelled, and choked on their own spit from contagious laughter.

The reason it was easy to remain unseen was because Lawrence was very average in both body, face and for the very few who actually knew him, in heart as well. Wood brown hair, accompanied with mahogany eyes, and tanned skin. Slim and stood at 6 feet exactly, as if his height too, decided to settle for the acceptable and unpromising. He was by every definition unassuming and unsuspicious. It was his greatest advantage.

The elderly tavern owners tolerated him because he didn't stand out, he was but a panel on these 4 walls, a house pest that had grown familiar. He’d been there too long for them to be rid of him because to do so would feel wrong somehow.

Lawrence understood his place, he tipped in the empty glass of booze that was set out day after day, even when he’d made a note to saving all of his money. But day after day it was the easiest coin he ever spent. 

Today was like any other- loud as hell, grown men yelling across the room to each other, music changing in tempo forcing his ears to adapt to all the different due to the laundry list of tunes cued up to the piano man. Some songs played three times in a row and Lawrence was surprised how little it bothered him. 

Beer breath, dust, and smoke infiltrated his nostrils tearing at his throat, making his eyes water. He’d sat down with little to no notice- a single nod in his direction from the bartender whose job it was to be so welcoming, like the good employee he was. 

Lawrence flashed his palm at him to place his order.

In seconds he was in company of a tall, frothing-and admittedly lukewarm, glass of ale, but Lawrence chugged it and was completely satisfied. Aside from the thoughts that began to fill his brain.  
How long can I keep doing this? 

Making what was unfortunately pocket change, attempting to scrounge up enough of it to sustain him in a house that was both far away and well built to weather nearly any storm. Not to mention he was 25, he'd hardly spoken to a woman, let alone a woman he fancied- would he have to settle for a woman with only some of her limbs and a smell that immediately brings tears to his eyes? And what of children? How is he to have so many when he’s not on the right track to having the first one? How many years will he have to save to own a piece of land? A couple years? A decade? ...a lifetime? Lawrence sunk in his seat- the ale sat at the pit of his stomach. Could his body maintain the long walks he found himself on to fulfill jobs? Would he be able to look a single mother in the eyes and say: ‘Three silvers is too low to find your child.’ 

Did he even have what it takes to fulfill his lifelong dream? 

Maybe if he hadn’t tipped everyday- then maybe he’d have the house by now…

He shook that thought out of his head as soon as it came to him, feeling dirty in an instant after he’d thought it, not sure why.

A paper slid on the counter from beside him and Lawrence, after years of observing had read it long before the bartender across from him had retrieved it. The note was probably for him, but what it said stuck in Lawrence’s mind. 

“ If you see a woman with red eyes and a crooked smile, bring her home.   
-Quinn’s House of the Old and Young.”

He turned to look at the source of the note, a young man 13 years of age at least, was walking out the tavern, he turned and caught Lawrence’s eyes. The child saw him, holding an unfaltering gaze- unlike a child at all- before looking away and turning his attention to the exit, disappearing like a ghost in the night.

At the time it felt odd. Almost like it was a separate parallel event in his current timeline, no one had seemed bothered by the demeanor of such a kid. But because no one else had given it much thought, he decided not to either.

Lawrence didn’t spend too much time thinking, mainly because the booze in his belly wouldn’t allow him to think about it and soon enough it was tucked away in the back of his mind.

What next grabbed Lawrence's attention was a man stood somewhere behind him, a man big enough that he could feel his presence, but that wasn’t meant to be intimidating because the biggest thing on that man had to be his smile, stretching all the way across his bearded face. He laughed a healthy and hearty laugh, holding his stomach as if to keep the booze in place, his cheeks were blister red and his eyes were twinkling. 

He stole the attention of every single patron with his presence and his voice, “It’s been fun, but I’m sure the wife has supper ready.” He stated to no one in particular.

Lawrence watched, enraptured by the scene. The other men jeered, even though nothing inspired awe. It was drunk supporting drunk. It was raw though and Lawrence couldn't say he wasn't a fan.

The man staggered out of his chair and a roar of laughter followed, Lawrence’s subtle laugh even joined in. The man grasped for a couple chairs and lifted himself up.

“Maybe the wife can bring the supper to you!” Said a man in the crowd, gaining the bearded giant’s attention.

“Never! You'd think I’d bring such a sweet thing amongst you heathens! Ha! I’d rather die on the roads home.” Came his half joking yet somehow serious response. 

A noble response. Lawrence understood it and he wanted it. Oh how he wanted to give such a manly response.

The giant was gone moment’s later, and Lawrence found himself watching him stride all the way home, just across the way stumbling a bit but overall kept on path. 

The sun was beginning to set, the conversation in the tavern began to slow to a humming. The customers were too far gone to even shape words now. Lawrence began to feel weight in his pocket when he shifted in his stool. He remembered the 5 silver- the only money he had left thanks to that King bastard. He pulled it out and stared hazily at it. 

Feeling relaxed due to his drink he dropped all 5 silver into the tip jar. The bartender was the only one to notice and gave him a very strange look. Lawrence met his eyes and smiled crookedly. The bartender didn’t return a smile probably because he was still in utter shock. Lawrence wasn’t sure if it was the booze or the current events, but tipping that 5 silver was more freeing than he’d like to admit. 

Soon some tempers would flare up and a possible fight would break out before the bartender would throw the strays out for the night but by then,as it had every other night previous. Before that could happen Lawrence would be long gone, in his room, packing.

He’d started packing way too early for the amount of stuff he had, those being: a couple other rags for clothes, -that weren’t his current ones- a flask, and the jar King had given him. He stood around stuck contemplating, but not a single thought was enough to make him think that he could ever raise enough money to match up to King’s reward.

One more job and he’d never have to step foot in this tavern again. He would soon be making deals to men like himself to carry out tasks that he couldn't be bothered with. Soon he’d be staggering home to his wife for dinner. Soon he’d have everything he never thought he could have.

But this wasn’t retrieving a lost child or pet. It was tracking down a powerful witch hunter that had been captured. By whom? By what? Why?

Lawrence felt immediate hesitation, the first real concrete thought that maybe this wouldn’t be as easy. He was making a horrible mistake. Perhaps it would be worse to not heed this opportunity that was so graciously dropped onto his lap. What if it was mundane and he was making more out of the situation? He’d have King there with him so it wasn’t like he'd be all alone, right?

He sunk in his cot, planning to get a wink of sleep to both calm his nerves and speed up time, though neither happened. He couldn’t sleep as the night trudged on at a cruel pace. A pace that allowed his brain to wander seemingly forever into every possible outcome and scenario. 

The sun began to rise and fog settled in on the town. And he still wasn’t at a concrete decision, but since he was packed and he was sure King was waiting, he snuck out like he always had. He tossed a sack pathetically over his shoulder, there was nearly nothing in it and he felt embarrassed and unsure of himself. What kind of comment would King make about this? He stopped for a moment. Who the hell cares? Came his immediate response to his moment of weakness and made his way to the town entrance.

King was just as ghostly in the grey hue of morning- more like something angelic now unlike the night previous. As Lawrence approached he could see a smirk playing across the man’s seemingly untouched face, that could be seen for the first time clearly.   
He’s handsome too? What an absolute prick.

King shielded his eyes against the sun pushing back his curtain of black hair with his opposing hand; beside him the shaggy dog looked like his demonic companion the two squinting to better see Lawrence who drug his feet when walking over to the duo. He never imagined to find a company like this, or to travel with them. But here he was, no backing out now. 

“What’s wrong? Wanna back out?” King taunted him, 

Lawrence didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing him think and contemplate, he’d done enough of that. “Not at all.” Lawrence responded with a surprising amount of confidence, perhaps enough to trick King into believing he did.

“Good, if you tried to back out, I’d have tortured you.” 

King was smiling big and full, but Lawrence wasn’t.


	4. Chapter Four

The words rang in his head and Lawrence was already sweating bullets despite the chill becoming ever more present in the air.

He kept his eyes focused forward trying to distract himself from the figures stalking behind him.

Despite being the leader in this party he felt like a prisoner led to his cell.

The thought of such a powerless situation shook him to his very core. 

Funnily enough, similar thought processes of a convict made its way to his psyche.

Could he run?

Could he hide? 

Probably not, especially with Bella the police tracking dog.

The idea of her taking gashes out of his legs. Being pursued through the thickets of woods and into the endless clearings. His lungs filling till they felt as if they’d burst, his heart caught in the explosion.

King was an expert in hunting witches. Lawrence wasn’t even a full witch, he probably wasn’t even considered prey. King had found him easily enough, as if it was without any effort at all. The thought that he couldn’t find this princess seemed crazy to him. 

Wherever the princess was or whoever she was with, was beyond King in some regard, and Lawerence knew he couldn’t compare to any witch. 

King must have not taken him out because there was no real reason to do so. 

Lawrence was no threat, even his witch power wasn’t something he could use to strengthen himself.  
Lawrence never attempted any kind of escape and even cast the thoughts out of his mind like bothersome stray cats. As if the thoughts alone could convict him.

The chillingly hushed morning air carried on all through the day- King and Bella’s footsteps were silent behind him. And when it began to snow Lawrence found himself in what was like a nightmare, his power made it so that he didn’t even have to focus on where he was going.

His instincts were enough.

Lawrence had walked his entire life, it wasn’t the distance that was killing him but he rarely treaded long distances in a foot of snow. 

King seemed fine his long legs enabled him to keep his pace even in a foot of snow, Lawrence assumed he’d done enough traveling. He would look at Lawrence as he struggled and snicker. Lawrence determined to avoid any further laughs at his expense pressed onward despite it all; hoping he could create distance between them with every step he took.

Even when they set up camp for a short rest under the stars that uncomfortable silence persisted. Though maddening at first, the silence became familiar after a day and a half. Meals and hunts without words just the sounds of shooting arrows and chewing on gristle and bone. They passed towns without acknowledging even a single one, moving past them one right after the other like apparitions. Even Lawrence’s own dreams became voids. His thoughts had lost their voice, everything was mute.

It reminded him of the last couple years he’d lived alone after his aunt left. That’s when he took to singing, listening to tunes and playing them back to fill the air and in turn, his own heart. Whether it be whistling or humming, a tune played in his heart. They were often wordless melodies that evolved as he went. The tavern was filled with music and white noise. He hadn’t minded the lack of conversation as he had never been in too many himself, his aunt was a blank page or a scribbled one, there was no in between either she was private or raising hell. Lawrence preferred the former, all she said was negative towards him, a burden, an annoyance but she was no festivity herself; at least he had people to call his friends. She died as she had lived, bitter and alone. Lawrence refused to carry on her legacy.

With such a memory in mind Lawrence decided to forgo caution and asked the question that he’d held in him for so long.

“Where are we anyway?” 

“Jaqulier White.” King tells him. Lawrence stops in his tracks, King bumps into him and snarls, Lawrence looked around as if they had just showed up suddenly. 

“You’re kidding, this place is nothing but snow.Was there supposed to be a kingdom here or something?”

“There was 8 years ago. The Kingdom fell. It was ruled by evil people- good riddance.”

Lawrence wanted to ask more but he wasn’t willing to test his luck.

The silence continued as it had the day prior, all the while King continued to feed him and set up camp for him.

Lawrence never went without the whole way there, it was then he realized something terrifying.

King wasn’t too different from his aunt. Their demeanor, their tones, their general distaste for Lawrence but still kept him around because he was ultimately useful to them. Lawrence would have shared such a discovery with King if he thought he could survive after comparing him to a witch.

Or maybe he could get away with it, Lawrence was his only hope after all, why else would he go out of his way to do such a thing? Lawrence smiled to himself knowing King couldn’t see it.

Lawrence felt his body jolt to a stop, something like a beacon sounding off in his head.

King’s face was a cocktail of intrigue and newfound determination. 

“Is this it?” He asked stopping beside Lawrence they could only see some trees in the way, so it didn’t seem like anything has changed.

Lawrence didn’t respond, instead he trudged through the remainder of the snow-covered woods until he reached a clearing. Standing tall and stony was a fortress sat on a comforter of pure white snow, it looked untouched by the outside. He looked to King who stood calm and prepared for anything. Lawrence couldn’t say the same but he was willing to push past it.

It was just a castle. It caught his fancy and he took some time to look at it in awe. He’d never seen such a thing. This must be the fallen Kingdom he wondered. His body stayed still because the situation became very real. The Princess was here. 

Lawrence had felt this feeling all his life. It was pure instinct, like how a cat unsheathes its claws, how a dog uses its nose, how a fish darts away from oncoming danger. His power was a part of him he let his feet do all the work, if he tracked someone and he moved in the opposite direction the world would feel warped and wrong. The only right path was the one that led him to his target, and when he was within just a few meters of them his head sent shockwaves throughout his brain like a heartbeat only to subside until he reached them. It didn’t hurt, but it felt abnormal to go against it.

King looked unphased, “No time for gawking, is The Princess in there or not?”

It was then that Lawrence experienced the demeanor of a world famous witch hunter- King’s arm rested on the hilt of his sword as he strode along tainting pure snow with every step in his muddy boots. Lawrence took note of the fact that the footfalls were still inaudible. 

Belladonna of course followed the witch hunter, her grape eyes standing out, surrounding them was a backdrop of shadowy fur. There was no malice in those hollowed out eyes that he could sense but he remained weary.

Bella followed and Lawrence fell in line, he’d stayed in the back until King was at the entrance.

The situation was odd, and as Lawrence looked between King and the door. The danger felt ever more present now, “Are we really going to just go through the front door? The Princess presence feels faint, there's a good chance she's dead we might be walking into an entire tea party of witches!” Lawrence tries to warn him, standing before him with his arms spread out.

King sneers at the stance. “The Princess is alive, no witch can possibly hope to defeat my underling.”

Lawrence couldn’t believe his ears. His anger was enough to let him say what he wanted to, “Are you an idiot?”

King’s eyes widened and it made him look ever more frightening. He wasn’t without a response though, it wasn’t verbal instead he took the same pommel he’d been resting on and slammed it right between Lawrence’s eyes.

Lawrence fell hard on the icy floor and clutched his face. “What the hell is your problem?!” He screamed to King who was already out of earshot.

Then a thought climbed into Lawrence’s psych, he could just leave- leave this situation, leave this idiot to his fate- he did his job. 

But would he be paid? If not then his house on the hill would always just be a dream. It remained abstract and far out of reach. No woman would look twice at a man without a home to call his own, there was no place for his future children to grow up. He’d lose everything if he left now.

Had King really ever intended to pay him? It was hard to say for certain, he was probably still on his cruel streak, he’d gotten him this far. Lawrence really wasn’t one to quit. He was going to do what he came here to do.

Lawrence was up the next moment holding his head and marching into the castle, he followed King’s snowy tracks up the stairway. 

They made it to the top floor and there the trio witnessed a Witch sat with a washcloth dabbing a woman’s forehead.

Lawrence was taken aback but King on the other hand, from what Lawrence could read was absolutely floored. Harder than what Lawrence had been just moments ago.

The Witch too, easy to spot since she was otherworldly, the eyes gave it away they were like gemstones instead of flesh. Deep violet. Lawrence remembered the eyes of his aunt’s a stabbing citrine. He suspected it must have been a trait all witches shared. 

She jumped up and pointed directly to King. “So you found me Witch Hunter!” King instinctively holds out his sword in warning, his sword still out in full. Everyone stood frozen.

“It was easy too, next time you try to kidnap one of my own maybe pick a place a little further from home.”

“Kidnapped?” she scoffed,”This girl came to me.”

Lawrence glanced over at King who did not meet his gaze, “You lie!” King protested.

“I grant wishes and this girl had a wish for me. So I gave her a single condition.”

Lawrence didn’t like the sound of that by any means.

“Forget your conditions, I’ll just kill you!” King charges toward the witch, drawing his sword so fast that Lawrence couldn’t see it. It’s fast but Bella is faster. She charges ahead of him to take a gash out of the witches’ legs and -- poof!

Just like that Bella is gone.

Lawrence immediately starts to panic and in his fear looks at King to yell, to scream and make sure that he can dodge the attack- whatever attack that may be.

But he too is gone just as quick.

Lawrence crumbles to the floor and looks at the witch approaching him. He shakes his head. This was supposed to be a simple job.

That was the famous witch hunter!

How could everything have failed so quickly?

So easily?

Now he was going to die...for what? 

With what?

“There, there.” The witch coos drawing Lawrence’s chin with her longer than necessary nails. Her face is painted like all witches were- human like but far more beautiful. The magic that coursed through their veins fixed all imperfections. But not beautiful enough, he snatched his head away.

“Don’t play with me, either kill me or I’ll get myself killed. I will not be a fool in my time of dying.”

The witch draws back and watches him, he can feel her eyes. More than he can feel his heart beating more than he can feel the sweat matting his hair to his forehead and his shirt to his back, more than he can feel the cold of winter morning.

“Now why would I want to hurt you child? Afterall you and I are one in the same.”

Lawrence opens his eyes and dares to look at her, to question her words.

“I can sense the witch blood in you just as you can. Your mother was a witch?”

“How do you know?”

“I know lots of things about you, you are far from home.”

Lawrence can only nod.

“Then will you do my customer a great favor?”

Lawrence doesn’t nod he just sits still and mutters, “What kind of favor?” He’s already got into this much trouble from one favor, if only King had listened to him…

“This girl, Gala. She came to me with a wish, to be free from her greatest sorrow. Would you be so kind as to bring her back to her employer?”

“Employer? To King? You just killed him.”

“I did no such thing,” she appeared to think for a moment before answering, “I simply sent him elsewhere.”

He wasn’t so quick to believe her but he had little choice in the matter, it seemed. Lawrence squinted suddenly understanding the full scope of the situation.

“You want me to track him down?”

The Witch smiles, it appears kind but it also seems too satisfied, like she’s got Lawrence right where she wants him. 

“You and he made a deal, correct? You find him and rid this girl of her curse and you get your end of the deal.”

“What curse?”

“Pardon?” her eyebrow quirks.

“What curse does that girl have?” Lawrence aks turning his head to the girl, she lays in bed appearing to be in a deep sleep. 

The Witch sniggers a bit, “It’s the condition I set, all my wishes have conditions. She asks me to relieve her of a great pain and I send her “King” away. If you manage to find him before their hibernation ends, then Gala will be free, and you will be a very wealthy man Mr. Bane. Poof! Everyone wins.” 

Lawrence looks at her, it sounds simple, it also sounds tricky and too good to be true. In the corner of his eye he sees the girl and realizes that can’t leave a job unfinished. King in his way had offered him his own twisted form of kindness, and he needed to return it. Moreso he felt as if he owed this girl something, she had a wish to fulfill just as did. If he helped her he’d be helping himself. If nothing else maybe he could send some positive energy into the world and it would return it to him in time. So with a million unidentified feelings in him and with a sheer fire in his heart he says, “I accept.” 

The Witch flashes him a toothy grin and attempts to say something else but instead vanishes just like the others before. 

Her power is dangerous. Lawrence concludes. And he hopes he will never see her again.


	5. Chapter Five

The Princess’ lips were ruby, skin white, and onyx hair. The most noticeable features were her neck piece that looked like it was capable of asphyxiation and likely why she was laying cold. 

She was limber and bundled in clothes but since they were all damp it was doing a great nothing to have them on her. 

Since the witch had been gone for a good minute Lawrence had built up enough courage to actually start building a fire in the fortress having stored some paper with him as a precaution for the kind of situations he may find himself in during winter jobs.

He hadn’t dared remove any of her clothing, her breath was near perfect and it looked as if she hadn’t been messed with at all. Was she asleep?

Could she sleep so peacefully in a witch's lair?

Was she under some sort of spell?

He had no tools required to disarm any spell so he stuck to what seemed easier.

He began to dab a warm cloth on her forehead and was taken aback when it smudged some of the makeup on her face . He stopped at once.

Her lips were the same. He stuck with just rocking her lightly from her spot on the bed. Even lightly smacking her to pull her out of her daze.

And since it did close to nothing he resorted to the last bit of knowledge he had, reserved for more drastic measured. He reached into his pouch and placed a bag full of coloured powder in front of her face. One breath was all it took and she shot up, Lawrence was quick enough to prevent the rain of smelling salts.

Her auburn eyes were huge and startled. Lawrence stood up clutching his salts to his chest and met her eyes. Brown on brown.

Fear on fear.

That fear increased when Gala found her dagger and held it. Lawrence dropped his salts in favor of his own dagger and the two stood still waiting for the other’s movement.

Maybe Lawrence was a lot less still due to his fear and inexperience in battle, this was strictly defense.

He was just out of one danger and into the next. Who knows maybe after this, assuming he could even survive, maybe he’d fight the next witch he could find since his luck got him that far.

Lawrence didn’t consider himself unlucky but current events were definitely testing his theory.

“Who are you? Where am I?”Her voice started out hoarse and Lawrence worried it may have been a sign of upcoming sickness.

Lawrence lowered his dagger a bit, just his dagger though, not his guard.

“I’m Lawrence, I’m a friend of sorts to The Noble House Witch Hunters. This is the lair of the Witch that you came to.”

Lawrence felt pretty clever for having paid enough attention to put out the fire that was starting to engulf them. 

“Liar!”

His dagger lifted as well as his eyebrows.

“No, wait wait! King! I’m the human tracker, it’s my witch power I can track anyone. So King hired me find you.” He said, now panicking a little.

“Then where is he?”

“King? He he vanished, the witch sent him somewhere!” His alibi was starting to crumble, was this the witch's plan all along?

“Impossible! The King would not fall at the hands of any witch!”

“Funny, he said the same about you, yet here we are.” Lawrence almost laughed. Almost, there was still a blade pointed at him after all.

Gala squinted her large eyes and Lawrence froze in the same instance.

“If you don’t start saying something that makes sense than you will meet your grave in your lair.”

“Hold on! I am no witch!”

“You cannot lie to me, I can sense the blood in you!”

“I am the son of a witch, not the witch you were captured by. My mother is long dead. I am not your capturer! Why would I do such a thing?” A fool question, what was to separate him from any other freak of nature. He also had no idea why Princess was being held here.

“A witch needs no reason to do the things they do. They are the products of demonic influence and will harm anything it sees fit.”

“Do you not remember coming here? Were you captured instead?” Lawrence found himself asking.

“I don’t remember anything!” She confessed.

“Than how can what I’m saying be wrong?” Lawrence looked to her and she was still glaring, unmoving. He gritted his teeth, “You’d honestly be  _ so  _ quick to write me off because I happen to share blood with a witch?” Still nothing, this Princess might as well have been made of stone. “How about you ask me anything about King and I will tell you!” he challenged, and it did the trick because she didn’t just stand silent that time.

Gala’s eyes were easy to read and she tossed the idea around in her head before responding, “Alright, talk. What does he look like?”

“Huge! He’s got huge bulking shoulders out to here! He is at least 3 times my size, he’s got hair that passes his shoulders and eyes like a shark.” Lawrence found himself emphasizing, using his hands to mimic the towering height, and even shaped his eyes to match King. She looked at him confusingly but when she eventually relaxed he felt the relief rush all through him.

“Very well, then-ergh”

“I’m Lawrence.” he introduced.

“And  _ I’m _ Princess you’d do well to remember it.”

Lawrence remembered it, how could he not? Since every member of this highly esteemed witch hunting group he came across were self entitled, witch hating, monsters of mass destruction quick to draw knives and threaten him. He wasn’t even slightly excited to take on this task. He’d do it, but he didn’t have to be happy about it. 

_ Tis life, I suppose. _

Lawrence nodded so it could put her at ease and he could prepare for the long silences that awaited them, Lawrence began to walk, somewhere, it didn’t really matter where. Walking in  _ some  _ direction was better than just standing still she followed him right out of the castle. Lawrence then remembered something weighing down in his pack, “Oh, I believe this belongs to you.”

Gala nearly snatches the jar from him, the one with a single strand of  _ her _ hair inside, and she looks between it and Lawrence. He feels immediately dirty.

“King gave that to me to help track you down.” He explains quickly, realizing just how unsettling it is for that man to have had it, unless it’s not strange and he just wants it to be. He can’t really tell because all he receives in exchange for his consideration is a curt nod.

‘Lovely,’ he sighs somewhere deep within him.

When time came to pass and the night fell, putting the insane day to its inevitable close the Lawrence and Gala sat up camp for some much needed sleep, unaware of the journey that lie before them. Lawrence intended to sort out the details in the morning where his mind would be at its freshest. He had no idea if The Princess would offer up any bright ideas, so he didn’t count on it and silently hoped she wouldn’t because they he feared that they’d have conflicting ideas and he didn’t want to be in confrontation with someone like her. 

He falls asleep easily, probably because he didn't want the morning to come. And it hadn’t when he awoke again. It was in the middle of the night and he could already tell. The Princess was gone.

Like she’d never been here. 

Lawrence didn’t panic, or worry at all.

He groaned, leaned back into his hands on his lower back and heard a crack.

“So this is the kind of game we’re playing.”

Lawrence felt a tinge of guilt when after hours and much distance he managed to spot her hunched over a small fire shielding it from the oncoming winter winds. She shivered and endured. He felt guilty because in any other circumstances she would be free from anyone she ran away from, she met the first rule, make distance and she traveled at such a speed and found a place that was nestled into a mountain only known by the wildlife. She had just settled down to make shelter to get some much needed rest that wasn’t brought on by a witch.

She’d done well but magic continued to overshadow human capabilities.

“Why did you run away?” Lawrence found himself asking her. She flinched, completely off guard which made Lawrence feel worse but hours of walking in this hell balanced out his oncoming guilt.

“Why would I trust you?” She immediately shot back, “You just happen to know what King looks like? So does half of the world!”

Lawrence couldn’t and didn’t respond. 

“How did you find me?” She continues absolutely shocked, even though she shouldn't be. He already explained, she really didn’t believe him, was she so distrusting? Despite feeling a melancholic he finds himself laughing, which probably wasn't a good idea in retrospect, “Once I’ve tracked someone I am forever able to do so,” 

Gala makes a face so he continues in hopes of putting out the oncoming fire, “King was able to use Bella to track me and I have a feeling her tracking works similarly.”

Gala’s eyes soften, “Bella,” she says, “Then it’s true… he is really missing? What has happened since I’ve fallen asleep?”

It was a question that needn’t be answered and Lawrence sensed that instead he watched the sad scene play out before him. Her voice beginning to collapse.

“ _ I _ couldn’t find him, I haven’t heard from anyone since we’ve been on hibernation.” 

“Not even the other Noble House Witch Hunters?”

“Not a single one. Not that that is anything new, hibernation is a very silent time.”

She looks up at Lawrence then, “Am I truly cursed?”

Lawrence’s throat tightened as small tears ran from her face, she wasn’t much younger than him but in this moment she was young and vulnerable. He wanted to say no. To lie and tell her that everything was fine and they’d just got caught in some weird fever-dream. 

This wasn’t what he needed to say though, “I can’t tell, often though, there is a mark from where the Witch placed the curse.”

Gala looks sick, she points to her torso hesitating to touch it and looks up at him, “I have one.”

“A mark? Where?”

“On my chest, I have one- I’m cursed, how could I have let myself be so weak? This is the worst possible outcome.”

“Correction, the worst possible outcome is that you lost your life, there’s also a good chance that King and the others are alive just like you, according to The Witch Anida, you have until the end of this hibernation before the curse will take your life.”

She begins to swirl into a fit of guilt despite what Lawrence just said, which is speculation, an educated guess at best- hopeful thinking at worst. Instead of continuing to blow smoke out of his ass he leans over and does what comes to his heart and instinctively places a hand on her back. “You’ve got to get out of this cold, Princess.”

“Gala if you would, Lawrence.”

Lawrence warms up, “To the fire then, Gala.”


	6. Chapter Six

The first question Gala asked when she awoke the next morning, wasn’t along the lines of anything Lawrence would have guessed like, ‘Where are we? or What now?’ Instead it was:

“Where is Bella?” 

Her voice was surprisingly deep. He prayed silently it wasn’t the sign of oncoming sickness. Lawrence looked at Gala, she hadn’t taken even a second to fully wake up blinked away obvious exhaustion. Looking to her sides as if the dog would be laying down beside her.

He frowned a bit remembering the events that had taken place just the day before, “She vanished along with King, she could be anywhere.”  
She didn’t take a moment to share his sadness.

“Plus the witch didn’t say anything about rescuing her. It may not be necessary.”

Her sadness erupted into objection in almost the same moment.

“Not necessary isn’t my concern- we find her, you are a tracker are you not? Is that limited to just humans and witches?” 

“No, I can track down anything living.” 

“Then we will track her.” She said as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

Lawrence cracked a smile, Gala stood and began to walk in a single direction. He watched her silently before asking, “Where are you going?”

“I am waiting for your directions.” She says in the same childlike tone and Lawrence’s grin widens.

“I need a piece of her in order to track her.” He tries to tell her as she continues to walk, he stands up and raises his voice in hopes she will hear him out and stop, “There is no slobber or nails around here, at least not from what I can see!” Lawrence stood now, eyes still crusty from a deep sleep, cups his mouth and starts looking around like Gala had earlier- as if a clump of Bella’s shaggy fur would instead be sat atop the snow right beside him.

She stops and sees him mimicking her earlier movements, “She’s a dog, she sheds. I’m sure I have some on me.” She begins to pick away at her pants and after some time plucks a single strand.

She approaches him and thrusts her hand towards him, “How do you even know the strands of hair’s are Bella’s and not yours?”

“I don’t but I’m standing right here, if the hair leads you right back to me than we can assume it will not work,” she tells him.

Lawrence agrees and takes it from her palm. He noticed then that her hands were calloused from years of sword play, little scars across palms and lengthy fingers. He makes small note of and then pulls the rest of his attention to the strand and attempts to put it in his pouch.

“Wait,” Gala says once and Lawrence stands perfectly still despite her not asking him to be statue still.

“Here,” she gives him the jar back, “It’ll be easier to collect the hairs in here.” Lawrence sticks it in his pack and nods with a small smile.

“This way.” He says turning in the opposite direction. Gala follows close on his heels.

Lawrence walks at a speed much faster than Gala’s after about a half an hour of listening to their crunching footsteps she points it out.

“You must do a lot of walking.” She observes staring down at his feet, still walking he turns to look at her but she continuously watches his steps.

“My job’s are often spread out, if i have to find someone, it's usually best on foot. That and I can’t quite afford a horse.” He says chuckling and scratching at his stubble.

Gala jogs a bit to catch up to him and he begins to notice the distinct difference in height. It isn’t anything drastic but it’s enough for Lawrence to pay attention to it. To like it. 

“I can’t either,” 

Lawrence looks down at her with a cocked eyebrow, “You can’t? Don’t you witch hunters make lots of money?”

“Perhaps King does, I however do not.”

Lawrence found that statement odd. King had enough money to supply him for life but Gala didn’t?

“I don’t hunt witches for wealth, Wealth is a fleeting thing.”

“How so?” Lawrence asked actually curious. 

“To have it makes you a target, and to not, makes you invisible. My job requires me to go unseen and so I don’t acquire much wealth.” She says as if she came to the solution of a math problem.

“That makes sense, but doesn’t King seem to do well for himself despite having wealth.”

“He is often an exception to many rules.”

“An exception?”

“King is unlike anyone you will ever meet.”

“For the best then.” Memories of the bastard flooding his mind, sure he was probably a lot of danger but the bitter side of Lawrence chalked it up to some worldly equivalent to karma. ‘A dick’s fate,’ he’d call it.

“It is for your benefit that you meet no one like him,” Gala tells him.

“Well I, for one, completely agree but isn’t he someone special to you?” Lawrence asked her.

“He is, however, it's better that he is the only member of his breed. Witches should fear him. This will not stand, once we find him we will put that witch's head on a pike and scorch it!”

Lawrence is visually taken back, the sheer volume and intensity- blasts at him like a war cry. “I understand you were just in the custody of a witch, but doesn’t that seem harsh? You did come to her, afterall.”

“I have trouble believing that.”

Lawrence frowns, “Well, it doesn’t really matter if you believe it, it’s true.” He says a bit harshly.

“I wished to be relieved of my greatest sorrow? What could that even be?” She pondered aloud. Luckily not returning his level of disagreement which makes it so much easier for him to calm down.

“It’s a good wish, it’s never a good idea to ask for specific things from a witch- some can often be tricksters.” He says deciding to meet her half way.

“My greatest sorrow…” her hand placed on her chin and looking to the cerulean sky in hopes the answer to her question would be written amongst the clouds.

“I wouldn’t worry much about it,” he says stopping her, “Once you fulfill the terms of the curse you’ll have your wish granted and you can move on like nothing happened right? The wish will know the answer better than you.”

“I suppose you are right.” She concedes releasing her chin and turning her gaze back to the cobbled path ahead of them.

Lawrence found the walk was overall very pleasant, it often weaved between little chats and comfortable silence. Unlike his walk with King. Finding that the company of the Princess-Gala, is a million times better a travel partner, probably because a walk with a wild bear would be far more entertaining than a walk with King, but he digressed.

Gala would stop occasionally to pay attention to a robin overhead, or to walk slower and quieter to prevent startling a deer.

Lawrence’s cheeks burned from the cold and he tried to not show any visible signs of freezing half to death. Though the temperature had been overall the same yesterday due to current events he didn’t have much time to focus on the cold, his fear, adrenaline, and anger keeping him plenty warm. So when he stood there jittering like a child Gala was quick to take notice. 

“Are you going to be alright?,” she asked, and Lawrence felt pretty embarrassed by it, “We are in the warmest part right now.”

Lawrence’s eyes widened, “You’re kidding!”

“I am,” she said giggling, something he didn’t even know her capable of and at his face no less.

“It’s a lot to handle, even for me, at times. It does get colder at night so we are in the warmest part of the day at the very least.” She corrects.

That news isn’t much better. 

Lawrence deflates at the realization.

“I’m sorry to have laughed at you.” She apologizes immediately. Lawrence looks at her confused for a moment, “Wait! No, I’m not upset, about the cold sure but you no, feel free to laugh at my expense- many people do.”

“Women?” She asked. Lawrence snickered, “My main target audience unfortunately.”

“Well on behalf of all of us women, we thank you for dedicating your face to our amusement.”

Lawrence laughs and his cheeks begin to hurt, not just from the cold.

Though the cold is insufferable, with more distance they seem to descend further into the ice box that was Jaqulier White. Gala not missing a beat attempts to remove the scarf around her neck, but Lawrence stops her.  
Gala looks up at him and squints, Lawrence shakes his head laughing, mainly out of discomfort. 

“That’s sweet but I could never take warmth away from someone else, a woman especially.”

“Oh? Well I was born here, I’m used to this and you are not. Female or no I am in a much better position than you. So as a woman I cannot watch the man responsible for rescuing me struggle.” She plays along.

Lawrence goes against his gut and accepts the scarf from her, his chivalry threatening to eat him alive with guilt. “Thank you.”

“It is nothing.” She assures him with a smile, “Lead on.”

“So you were born here?” He starts to ask, hoping to take his mind off of the weather for once this morning.

“I was, though I don’t want to relive it- this place is hell. I can’t believe I made a wish with a witch, and made a wish with a witch in this horrid location too.” She grits her teeth and clenches her fists.

“I hope you will regain your memories then. This could make for a good story if everything goes according to plan, though it hasn’t yet so maybe I’m just being hopeful.”

“You should be, dealing with witches isn’t a small thing. They are terrifying, and unpredictable no matter how many you are around you will never get used to them.”

Lawrence laughs nervously, “You’re telling me! I was practically shaking in my boots. There is no way I could do your job.”

“Really? Aren’t you the product of a witch?”

“I am, but my aunt wasn’t very pleasant, and that was family! There’s no telling what they’d do to me if we weren’t related.”

“Allow you to leave their lair in one piece apparently.” Gala answers.

“Apparently.” 

Unfortunately the conversation comes to a halt, probably because everything they could possibly talk about had been touched on already. Lawrence silently wished they’d have more to talk about in the future.

And as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for.


	7. Chapter Seven

Before Lawrence can feel anything tingling deep within him, Gala is first to notice something, distant sounds- as they followed it they became a lot more distinct- growling is the first definite, then, some awful gnashing and barking, closely followed by something unexpected. Screaming.

Gala jumps into action withdrawing her sword and following down the path to where the sound is, the sound is hard to pinpoint within the valley,

“Gala, this way!” 

Lawrence follows down a path that probably shouldn’t be treated on foot or by anything remotely human. They end up falling more than sliding down the hill. Down at the bottom is a bizarre scene.

A man pinned against the wall and shaggy black dog stood before him as the bear approached. The bear was bigger than anything Lawrence had ever seen.

The situation screamed danger, and the man screamed even louder. He was writhing and heaving from behind the dog. “Help! Please! I’ll pay you! Help me!” Some of his screams were incoherent and he was firing them off so fast that Lawrence was scared he’d just pass out. Even though that might have been his best bet if his little knowledge of bears served him right.

Lawrence withdrew his dagger and felt stupid in doing so, what would this dagger do? Especially when Gala’s sword was long and magnificent. At least he wasn’t compensating for anything. And neither was Gala, the way she held it was as comfortable as a mother with her child. 

She’d must have used a sword all her life, Lawrence knew this as someone who’d never been around many swordsman. Only the occasional rogue carrying a sword; Lawrence realized then that those people probably weren’t swordsmen at all. None like Gala.

Whereas Lawrence stood trying to conjure up a secure rescue plan. He had yet to see what kind of action she’d take, he didn’t feel content being a bystander but his feet remained locked in place. Gala had thrown all that to the wind and met the bear head on. 

Lawrence scared for her ran behind her in an instant, “Gala!” He screamed. But she stood still looking toward the 8 ft grizzly and didn’t waver. Lawrence stood a head above Gala now watching the bear watch Gala and he fell to his knees. If Lawrence hadn’t seen it with his own eyes he would have thought he’d imagined it.

The bear dropped down to it’s fours and withdrew. 

Before Lawrence could think of saying something, anything. 

The screaming man ran toward her just as loud, “Princess! How? Why? Thank you! You are an angel sent from on high blessed by everything holy!”

She shook her head, trying to deter the compliments and barely looked at him, Lawrence approached them with questioningly glances hoping Gala would introduce the man.

“How did you do that?” Lawrence found himself asking first. She didn’t respond at first, so he turned his attention to Bella who was covered in gashes and wounds. She was not phased. The man, on the other hand, was on the verge of tears by the look of it, Lawrence didn’t blame him. His arm right arm looked as if it was torn open. Lawrence cringed at the thought of exposed bone.

“They need treatment.” Lawrence forced out through his gags. Gala wasted no time she bent down and Bella bolted toward her and flopped in her arms licking her and rubbing up against her despite being covered in bloody clumps of fur.

Gala smiled and laughed quietly not minding one bit, “Bella, you were very brave. I am fine. I’m glad you are too.”

Gala catches Lawrence watching them but he doesnt turn away, “Bella is a Belladonna- it's a poisonous dog breed usually found in the marshes of New Hampton.”

Lawrence moves towards the dog who he now fears slightly more than before but he assumes that if he was safe this long, he’d be safe for good. He continued to watch on happily but his attention was torn away seconds later,

“You there,” the injured man said approaching at a cautious pace, “Will you be so kind as to heal me? As you can see,” he said pointing to his body but in a way that didn’t suggest ‘I’m injured’, “My beautiful face has been  _ absolutely _ tarnished,” 

It’s not bad, at least not as bad as he makes it out to be, even with Lawrence’s limited to no medical expertise. Not even a little, the worst of it was on his arm, that horrific wound that Lawrence couldn’t bare to look at. And yet the wound he pulls the most attention to is a little one across his nose. 

“I can feel it,” he begins to whine attempting to touch it but stops just before, “It’s got to be unbearable to look at,” Lawrence makes a face but it’s out of confusion, not disgust. 

“Will you help me, friend?” 

Lawrence is taken back, this man is pleading to him, hands in prayer, pouty lip and all. 

“Duke, would you cease your foolishness, Lawrence is no healer.” Gala finally says.

“I never said that he was,” he says to her hands on his hips, “But he has to have some bandages, right?” He asks turning his full attention on Lawrence again, but without giving him any time to answer he’s already speaking, “That is just the mark of a true traveler.”

“In that case, where are your bandages?” Gala points out.

“I don’t know! It’s not like I brought any.” 

Lawrence meets Gala’s gaze and the two giggle like school girls. 

“Lawrence will not heal you, I will.” 

Duke’s shoulder’s sink, “Oh, well that’s much less fun. Are you sure you can even reach the wounds on my shoulders, I am much taller than you, you know. And Lawrence here is just my height.” He says smiling from ear to ear.

Gala clicks her tongue and starts to roll up her sleeve revealing an arm wrapped in bandages. As she speaks she begins to unravel them onto her opposing hand.

“You’ve been a Witch Hunter long enough to be prepared.”

Lawrence perks up, “You’re a part of the Noble House then?”

Duke looks up at him from his spot on the tree stump and smiles, “I am, and who are you? Our newest member I hope.”

“Nothing of the sort, I’m just a tracker.”

“Did you track me my darling?”

“He tracked Bella,” Gala clarified.

“That mutt?!”

“Yes, so don’t get carried away.”

“If I was being carried away I’d be much happier I assure you. Instead I was nearly mauled by a bear and covered in dog hair.”

“Bella saved your life.”

Duke frowned, “I know, and now I’m indebted to it.”

“Her.” Gala corrects.

“It’ll get it’s repayment but I refuse to be indebted to an animal, what do they even like? Coin? Prey? A playmate?”

“Scratches behind the ear,”

“I’d rather die!”

“Then perish.”

Lawrence ended up laughing at the exchange and Duke’s attention is immediately back onto him, “So, are you a part of our little posse?” 

“Lawrence was hired by King to find me,” Gala says before Lawrence can respond.

“And what about the rest of us?” He retorts and something about that leaves Gala silent, Duke looks to Lawrence awaiting a response.

“Oh, no I’m just doing a job, King promised a a large sum of money to retrieve Gala for him, so I suppose I’ll be with you guys until we find him.”

“I see, it always comes down to money,” Dukes says and Lawrence feels a ping of guilt in his chest that almost immediately dissipates, “I understand though. well I for one, look forward to your company,” 

Behind Duke, Lawrence saw Gala roll her eyes. 

“Hopefully you are alright, the work we do is not for the faint of heart.” He chuckles.

“I had no intention of encountering a witch.” Lawrence tells him sort of dumbly. Scratching away at his head.

“No one does, but when they are on you it’s quite frightening,”

Lawrence nods agreeing completely, memories of the Witch Anida coming to the forefront of his brain.

“But it’s alright, I’ll protect you, dear Knight,” 

“Knight?”

“We in the Noble House of Witches all have code names, Princess,” he says pointing to Gala who is working away at his wounds, “Duke,” he says pointing to himself, “And you, Knight,” he says resting his head into his hand propped up by his knee.

“Since you’ll be with us, it’s best you have a code name and Knight is the lowest rank, it suits you though, maybe you’ll decide to stay and work your way up the ranks.” He purrs.

Lawrence finds himself blushing out of embarrassment, “That’s kind, you can call me Lawrence though if you ever want to. Can I call you by your name?”

“No one in the group knows my real name gorgeous. You can call me Duke though or any other name that suits your fancy.” he says smouldering ever so slightly.

“Done!” Gala says slapping his bandaged arm.

“Ah!” He hisses looking at her already standing, “Thank you very much,  _ Princess _ .”

He stands up testing his arm and admiring her handy work, “This’ll do, hopefully we can avoid anymore woodland creatures, huh?”

“Good luck, Jaqulier White is known for its wildlife.”

“What poor luck I have!” He cries throwing his hands into the air dramatically. “That bitch just showed up during  _ my _ hibernation and up and poofed me here! I’ve never come across such a thing in all my years!”

“The infestation is worsening it seems.” Gala says slowly.

“Had you guys not shown up, hell, if that _ creature _ hadn’t held off the bear as long as it had then I’d have been mauled by a bear. A bear of all things! My lineage ended because of a fucking grizzly!”

“Then, when she teleported you away she deliberately sent you here?” Gala asked.

“That’s right! Witch's have done all kinds of dirty things before, entrapment and things of the like but, I can often use my gift and get the hell away.”

“You have a gift as well?” Lawrence asks, the man turns on one of his heels and grins triumphantly, jarring since he was just whining a second ago.

“Of course we do, my sweet- you are not the only one,” he rests his hand on his chest puffing it out for emphasis, “I for instance have increased magnetism.” he is all to happy to explain, leaving just enough unsaid so Lawrence just has to ask more questions and bolster his swelling ego all the more.

“Like being attractive?” Lawrence asks holding back a laugh.

Duke notices his attempt to hold in laughter but is happy enough to proceed, “It’s  _ exactly _ like that! However, the damn thing doesn’t work on animals or if my face is messed with,” he pauses, “Or both, in this particular case.”

Lawrence looks a bit unsure, Duke is handsome but it doesn’t seem so useful an ability. 

“It’s actually quite vital, assuming you even have any attraction to men you will become inclined to do his- my bidding,”

That sounds a tad more dangerous.

“My aunt- a witch didn’t find men all that appealing, I think the same could be said for other witches’.”

“Well, like humans they have different preferences but luckily there is a fair share of them that don’t mind men. It’s really something!” he presses. 

“I’ve even be subjected to it.” Gala tells Lawrence then knowing that if she doesn’t Duke will whine until she does so.

Lawrence nods, “What about your gift, Gala?”

She looks to him with her hand on her chest, “Me? Well I have an immunity to toxins like poisons and venoms- but not curses apparently.” she tacks on with a sad laugh. Lawrence returns the laugh and Duke looks between the two confused.

“Curse?”   
  


They begin to explain and Duke looks immediately disheartened. 

“You actually sought after a witch? That’s betrayal, I personally could care less but if King or any of the others hear about it you could be in some deep, deep shit.”

“Wait! What, why?”

Duke looks at him pityingly, “Knight, we are witch hunters, any association with witches that isn’t hostile is strictly forbidden they are enemies to the entire continent. Witches are tricky, and The Princess is, other than King, the highest ranked Witch Hunter in the world. The Noble Houses of Awlbar will not just stand by silently if this gets out.”

Lawrence only shakes his head, and before he can argue Gala stops him. “I don’t remember what exactly happened but if it’s true then I will deal with the consequences accordingly. But before then, we need a plan, the curses conditions dictate that I rescue King before the end of the year otherwise I’m dead.”

“In your current state that might be a better alternative.”

Lawrence shoots up, “Absolutely not! I won’t let that happen.”

Duke quirks an eyebrow and cracks a smirk, “Oh?” he laughs closing his eyes. 

“I’m not scared of getting involved with the legals, but if we encounter the others they won’t take kindly to this, I can promise you.”

Gala only nods, Bella stood at her feet, and Duke huddled close to Lawrence. 

Lawrence didn’t quite understand the full scope of the situation, but nodded along with her (something he finds himself doing quite often). He’s made it this far,and he’s not going anywhere.

“I’ll stick by you, but only because I’m a sucker for a Knight in shining armor,” Duke explains winking at Lawrence. A little comical with his face all bandaged up. 

“If he wasn’t so charming, he’d be pretty annoying.” Lawrence tells Gala they look to Duke who catches their gaze, smiling, “So,what’s our plan then?”


	8. Chapter Eight

There isn’t a plan. They were all sitting ducks waiting for something to go off in their minds. 

“I can’t think with an empty stomach,” Duke groans at them rubbing his stomach for emphasis but no one disagrees with them.

So their plan turns into stuffing their faces. 

They gathered under a tree to avoid the snow from coating their lunch.

Gala unpacked an apple from her pack and Lawrence joined her to eat some cheese pieces and bread. Bella mostly begged and it worked because Lawrence was quick to give in. 

Bella gently gnawed at pieces from between his fingers and Gala reached toward him and sat stunned at the tenderness Bella displayed. Lawrence froze in place from shock once he realized what had just taken place. He looked to Gala with terror in his eyes, little did he know he had nothing to worry about.

Gala breathed out a laugh in relief and Lawrence released a gasp then.

“Seems like she likes you, she’s known Duke for awhile now and still chomps at his hands. I thought she might have hurt you, turns out I have nothing to worry about-” she said rewarding Bella with scratches behind the ears. 

A flourish of butterflies celebrated in Lawrences’ ribcage and he gave Bella the rest of his cheese pieces. His stomach so queasy he could no longer stomach anymore food.

Duke didn’t eat either, he glares at Bella instead and made a noise through his nose, “Hmm shady pup,” he mumbled but everyone could hear it through the silence of day.

Minutes of calm munching and thinking proceed until Duke explodes into an,“Of course!” 

The duo wasn’t in favor of the cannonball that was Duke. Gala looked the most displeased sat down her food and looked at Duke waiting for an explanation that wouldn’t want her to jab a fork in his neck. Insead she bites away at her 3rd apple.

This however, would be the closest thing to a solid plan yet.

“Duchess! That’s it, how could I have just now thought of it? Her family is somewhere in New Hampton, aren’t they? If we go there, Lawrence should be able to easily track her.” 

Gala’s face lightens significantly from behind her bite mark in the apple, Duke successfully gaining her full attention.

“And how will going after her help us find King?” Lawrence asks.

“Her collection!” Duke points out and loses Gala just as quickly as he gained her. 

“Pardon?”

“She has a huge collection full of all kinds of items she’s….obtained.”

“Stolen. You mean to say, stolen.”

“Details, details.” Duke responds shaking her off with awave of his hand.

“So you want us to rummage through her belongings? Why again?” Gala asked now confused.

“ _ Our _ belongings, Lawrence can still track items we’ve been around for long periods of time. Remember?”

Gala looks a bit ashamed for not having thought of it.

“Tracking isn’t as effective without DNA but, it should give us some sort of lead.”

“You are not the only one capable of tracking my dear.” Duke tells him, “We witch hunters have been investigating without a trace for nearly a decade now.”

“We can’t just keep walking in circles though. Gala is on a time crunch, we have to continuously be making progress,” Lawrence reminds him.

“I’m sure Bella could help,” Gala suggests. “And it’s only been a couple of days, I’ve got a year, we are way ahead of schedule.”

“For now,” Lawrence reminds her, he looks her down, from where he stood he could see her lips slightly parting in surprise, her eyes vacant of hostility just waiting for his next move. He had to swallow down the lump growing in his throat- her lips are perfect. 

“Let’s just keep on pressing onward, New Hampton was it?” he says trying to move past his suddenness and the others seemed eager to as well.

Made apparent when Duke and Gala meet eyes for a moment and nod.

“I’ve heard of New Hampton but I’ve never been.” 

“You wouldn’t have, Witches and anything witch-like avoid it like the plague.”

Lawrence shoots Gala a questioning look.

“New Hampton is not very far from the Noble Houses of Awlbar. There is an entire police force stationed in New Hampton.”

“Witches aside, regular people avoid it like the plague,” Duke adds making Lawrence feel a little better.

“Oh yeah, how is this going to work exactly?” Gala asks Duke with a stupid grin on her face.

Duke makes a noise with his nose and it puts Gala into a fit of giggles. Lawrence smiles mainly out of confusion and looks to the two for answers, “Pardon?”

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with my knight,” Duke says quickly trying to avoid talking about it. Very unlike him as anything that is about him is usually given full stage.

Gala doesn’t give Lawrence an answer instead she tells him, “I’ll be sure to fill you in later,” 

Lawrence is unsure of what he is supposed to think, there was a lot about the witch hunters to learn about, he was eager to find out over time.

“Besides I’m not  _ that  _ concerned about police and their legalities.” Duke says seemingly out of nowhere many minutes after Gala’s teasing had stopped. Saying it more to convince himself than anyone else. No one believes him of course, but they avoid saying anything and let the silence speak for them, and that silence persists beyond that point.

Traveling was hard, Lawrence would never call it easy no matter how much of it he found himself doing. He took comfort in the fact that he could keep up with two seasoned Witch Hunters but by the time they made it to New Hampton his legs were gelatin.

Somewhere in the mid afternoon the climate had gradually gone from crunchy packed snow, cold pastures and into what was still cold but a lot more unforgiving wetland. 

Lawrence foot sank into mud more times than he was comfortable with. His boots were tall and built for snow but now they felt heavy and would be suction cupped into the floor without his consent threatening to wet his only pair of socks. So far his biggest fear, the uncomfort of wet socks for the rest of this already miserable trip.

He wasn’t alone, Duke grimaced, “Where are the boardwalks, don’t tell me those poor bastards got rid of it.”

Lawrence caught a glimpse of Bella who struggled to walk in the dense mud. He came toward her and lifted her up, surprisingly she barely struggled, realizing the favor he’d just done her.

Gala trudged beside him and scratched behind Bella’s ears, and silently smiled at Lawrence who smiled back nearly forgetting about his socks.

“Aren’t there supposed to be gators around?” Duke asked amongst many questions, all of which went unanswered.

Something had  _ wooshed  _ past them followed quickly by another.

Bella’s ears perked up, and it had stolen Lawrence and Gala’s attention.

Before Lawrence knew it Gala’s sword was right across his chest. Gala breathed heavy, relief washed over when he looked to see an arrow sat atop the mud.

He looked at Gala whose eyes were startled, the situation became clear from there.

“What brings you here? Speak! For you are committing a crime walking across holy land.” came one voice. But Lawrence suspected that there wasn’t just one. Though it was day, it was close to impossible to see anything beneath the shadows of many trees and the fog that skirted them.

Duke’s eyes widened and he looked around at his feet like he’d stepped in shit. “You call this mud hole sacred?”

“That’s correct!” came a response. 

“You’re full of it!” Duke shot back drawing a double sided dagger like weapon in one movement, “There isn’t anything holy about this, you’re just some mediocre bandits.” Another arrow was shot without warning but Duke was able to reflect it like Gala had earlier. Lawrence was no less impressed either.

“If this were holy land where are the masks on the trees?” Gala asked even though it had already been established it wasn’t, deepening the wound that Duke had already made.

“We decided we’d use your heads instead.” a different voice said.

Lawrence felt himself cringe from behind Bella’s mass of fur. 

An onslaught of arrows came toward them. Gala dodged with ease but not without caution, feeling Lawrence from behind her. Lawrence felt foolish from behind Gala, though it was serving them both well it didn’t keep his pride from swelling in his ears. He dropped Bella who stood guard by their joined feet. He emerged from behind her, unsheathed his own dagger and watched for her blind spots. 

An arrow came to her back but she’d been one step ahead of him deflecting it. Regardless she had avoided a major injury and victory washed over them both, the two shared a small smile and in that very same instant he felt a sickening pain in his side.

Gala’s face played out from thankfulness to horror. An arrow. He coughed and fell to his knees clutching his side instinctively and felt a sting of pain from places he weren’t aware existed.

The whole situation, that was dangerous up to this point, grew increasingly more panicked. “Lawrence!!!” they both screamed. 

He rocked from on his knees, he couldn’t feel the moisture on his clothes, just the one in his side. When he dared to move it he felt sticky and his hand was dyed completely red.The sight of blood, his own blood, made him gag. He’d never been injured like this before, and this could very well be his last time.

The arrows slowed down, and Lawrence from his fetal position heard the sounds of fallen men. He was unsure how much time had passed. It felt fast and slow all at once.

The two, Gala and Duke, were by his side a moment later. They hoisted him over their shoulders and Lawrence felt nothing but pain. Worse so from just how pathetic he must have looked.

The walk was dizzying and undocumented, he fell between many motions of conscious and unconscious. 

He saw no villages, no houses, just brown.

In an instant his vision had gone from a blurry mix of browns, blacks, blues, and greens.

He’d opened his eyes and there he lay in a bed. In a room he’d never seen before. It was wood and cozy- a window with plantlife tapping at it, wind and rain playing it’s tune.

There was no sounds from inside the building for awhile as he stared out the window, thankful for its existence and for its calming effect.

He shifted and regretted it immediately, he hissed and clutched at his newly formed wound.

“Don’t touch it, come you two, he’s awake.”


	9. Chapter Nine

The first face Lawrence saw was unfamiliar, chestnut skin and sharp eyes. 

“Lawrence.” the unfamiliar face said then.

“Yeah?” he asked hoarsely. His throat felt as if a spider had formed webs in there.

“Don’t talk.” the man told him, which immediately set Lawrence off,  _ he  _ had just called to  _ him _ . 

Lawrence groggily looked around for Duke and Gala who both stood perfectly still and uninjured. He sighed in relief. He wanted to ask if they were okay, but it was apparent they were. Bella laid at his feet curled up, she stared at him, he’d never seen her so close to him before. Having her there so close put him at ease, but what hadn’t was the unknown man who watched and judged him without a word. 

The sharp eyed man dismissed Bella’s presence, a very ballsy move. He began tending to Lawrences’ wounds without a moment of preparation. He withdrew the covers and Lawrence was left half bare. He and his companions eyes began to dart. 

Lawrence felt himself blush all the way to his chest.

“Scrawny fellow, I see. Are you eating alright?” it wasn’t said with concern, it felt like he was poking fun at him.

“I-” Lawrence started before the guy jabbed- not poked- his wound with his finger and Lawrence’s stomach churned, his scream muffled behind his lips doing everything he could not to scream in agony.

“Don’t speak I said, I was asking your company.” he barks at Lawrence. “Well? Is he eating alright?” 

Gala and Duke stir a bit and Duke is first to speak, “He looked fine to me.” 

Gala shakes her head, disappointed.

The man frowns, “Just anyone can become a witch hunter these days I see.”

“Correction, Hendel...” Gala starts.

“Doctor Noelle if you would, ergh,  _ Ms _ . White.”

“Correction, Dr. Noelle-” she continues, “Lawrence is not a witch hunter, he just possesses the witch’s gift.”

“A special breed then. You all should have done your research before coming here, outsiders are shot on sight. Whether it be a Witch, Witch Hunter, or even fools it seems.”

Lawrence wanted to retort but the feeling of needle and stitch kept him still. He endured the pain as best as he could. 

“Your protection is a group of local bandits? What happened to the police?” Duke asks.

“They have left us, now local townsmen take it upon themselves to do the work.” Dr. Noelle tells them sewing Lawrence up without pause.

“So those men we killed?” Gala asks.

“Deserved it, yes.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Don’t go around feeling bad, those men had killed young men and women, animals, and whatever else crossed the perimeters. They were no good drunkards looking for their shot of temporary glory.”

The two stood silent despite Doctor Noelle’s “attempt” to put them at ease.

“Belcali will have to put them down if she hopes to make it home.” Dr. Noelle said.

“Duchess, you mean?” Duke says.

“No. I meant Belcali, you “Noble Witch Hunters” are but people in this house, a house  _ I _ allowed you to be in, might I mind you. I never expected to see her subordinates before her. It’s unlike her to take this long, unless she went bar hopping on the way back.”

“No, Doctor, I think Belcali was taken by a witch like I had been, that’s why Lawrence is here with us.” Gala begins to explain.

The man completely stopped mid thread.

Lawrence watched him swallowing a forming lump in his throat.

One wrong word and he could get a needle jammed straight into his wound.

“You mean to tell me Belcali is with some witch, and you have me healing this fool instead?”

“Without Lawrence we have no hope in finding her, we thought she might be here, we could find one of her hair and use it to track her.” Duke attempts to reason, trying to keep the doctor from completely exploding.

“Now you mean to rummage through her things for stray hair?” he shrieks.

“It’s how his power works,” Gala explains.

“I’ll just send a letter out to Marcus.” He says ignoring their attempts to be civil.

“Marquess has been taken as well, everyone in our group was taken away, even King.” Duke tells him. “If we had a hold of her collection we’d be able to find them both, knowing them they are probably both okay.”

“ _ Probably _ okay won’t help our daughters sleep tonight.”

The two shifted in their place where they stood. Dr. Noelle, despite it all, continued to sew up Lawrence’s side.

Lawrence was grateful for this man, but he’d been in the Liar’s Province long enough to know that they could be indebted to him after this. That is what he dreaded most, being indebted to anyone. 

The room was big, and so it was smart to assume that the rest of the house matched its scale. They had money, and lots of it. Dr. Noelle was a talented physician made evident by his quick hands. He made stitching Lawrences’ wound look effortless. There was no hesitation or short cuts, no panic behind his eyes or uncertainty. He had the mark of a true doctor.

“There.” he said as he sat back and gave a passing glance at his work.

“Be gentle with it, if you tear it open again it could be worse and get infected. In this swamp, there are mosquitos and other types of parasites that can slip in.”

That brought close to no comfort, but Lawrence figured it wasn’t supposed to.

The doctor stood up and took his bag to another room, leaving the three travelers and Bella alone for the first time since the injury.

Duke and Gala immediately approached his bedside.

“I’m sorry-” they all managed to say at once, the immediate reaction was confusion.

They shared a small laugh.

Lawrence’s laugh dissolved a moment later, he gave them a sad smile, “I am truly sorry, If it were just you three there wouldn’t have been a problem.”

Bella as smart as she was stood up and plopped down onto Lawrence’s stomach and curled back up.

Gala’s eyes shot open, “Bella!” Gala began to scold.

“Get off of him, you’re going to hurt him. Control your damn mutt, Princess!”

“No, hey! She’s right.” Lawrence said to them waving his hands.

“What you speak canine now?” Duke asked laughing.

Lawrence reached up and petted Bella, “We’re in this together. If one of you guys went down I’d be in your same position, I wouldn’t pity you.”

“You were very brave.” Gala tells him, Duke agrees nodding furiously.

“I was terrified!” Lawrence laughed.

“Being brave isn’t fearlessness, it’s doing something despite your fear.” Gala tells him

resting a hand on his hand. It felt better than it should have, especially when he just had his wound sewn up. He was so conscious of his beating heart, it was slow but it was quickening with every moment.

“I’m glad you gained your color back, you were so dreadfully pale,” Duke cries, “Worse than the Princess.”

Gala elbows him in the chest. Everything felt calm again, Lawrence wanted to soak in it but a certain someone wasn’t willing to let that happen.

Then appearing at the doorway is the doctor stood adjusting his gloves, now fully dressed in attire suited for the outside.

The three of them exchange confused looks.

“Are you able to walk?” he asks them.

Before Lawrence or anyone, for that matter, can respond he’s already talking, 

“We are all searching for Belcali, let’s try to be back before my girls awake, shall we?”


	10. Chapter Ten

Lawrence was almost 100% positive that he would meet his end in New Hampton. It was unlike anything he’d ever known, a village built along the circumference of trees.

They passed many houses on their way down. Faint noises and candle light everywhere they see. He would have been fascinated by it all if he wasn’t hurt. It was raining sideways, and it hadn’t been when they arrived earlier. It felt awful when coupled with the chilling and violent winds. When they reach the floor of the tree the mud becomes their next obstacle, it threatened to take them under. 

Lawrence had just been healed, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t pull his mind away from his wound.

Gala and Duke made many sly remarks at the doctor’s expense now that they were off his property. They relentlessly made jabs at his poor bedside manner. Lawrence felt grateful to him because the doctor truly didn’t need to help them. Lawrence can understand that he must be worried sick, his wife could be anywhere in any condition. 

Dr. Noelle was a man of few words- correction- he was a man of few kind words. Lawrence didn’t speak with him. All of his demeanor, all of who he was, from how he spoke, to how he eyed them all down like peasants reminded Lawrenceof his aunt. A woman he hadn’t thought of until just recently, she wasn’t a ghost haunting him nor was she a muse he revisited to push him. She was neither, she was a part of him deeply infused in the deepest parts of him. Little grooves slowly carved into his being shaping who he was today and who we would probably always be.

She was intimidating, so much so he couldn’t remember a single time in his childhood when he’d ever spoke back to her, questioned her, or rebelled. He knew who she was,  _ what  _ she was more importantly. He was family, sure, but family was different to witches. No less important but much less forgiving.

Family could hurt each other, take advantage. Family wasn’t immune to hurting each other because there was love, loving had nothing to do with it. Lawrence knew that better than anyone.

Dr. Noelle cared for his wife but there was a reason for it. That’s why he spoke of her so highly and why he wanted nothing more than to join them in the rain. Their chances were no greater with him here, but he was at ease. It reminded him of his aunt with his mother. There was no one to which his aunt spoke so fondly. Lawrence wondered if he’d ever have something like that. To love one not just because of the blood they shared, but the blood they shed.

He wondered the whole way there what kind of woman this Duchess, no this Belcali, was. He was sure he could just ask Gala or Duke, they probably knew plenty. He could even ask the doctor himself. He might have been more than happy to, but he felt as if it would be a disservice no matter how fondly or rudely they may describe her. Discovering a person was the best part of building relationships. It was a human experience, one that witches may not have shared.

His experience with witches was small. Which he found himself hating more and more since everyone expected him to just know. He couldn’t decide if witches were truly demon creatures with ill will towards humans or simply misunderstood. He wanted to believe that they were monsters, since they had the overall demeanor and powers of one. But he was part witch and he had their one of their gifts. His mother was always told to be a wonderful person but that could be biased. He could be wrong and his mother could have kidnapped children or cursed others like Gala had been.

So far though, he was certain that he’d side with the witch hunters over his aunt and the witch Anida any day. Even people like King and Dr. Noelle just happened to be his allies. Those who’d seen evil first hand were jaded and cursed overtime and Lawrence hoped he’d never live to see himself in such a dark place. He hoped Gala and Duke wouldn’t either.

Somewhere along the line, Duke stopped alongside a puddle identical to the countless others they’d passed by so far, but something made him drop to his knees. Dr. Noelle immediately cocked an eyebrow, Gala was on her guard, and Lawrence curiously looked over his shoulder. 

“Is everything alright?” Lawrence asked.

“It is, it’s wonderful actually. You see this?” He says, pointing to the puddle, “I’m delightful .”

“That’s one way to describe yourself,” Gala said immediately calming down, glad that they were not in any danger.

“What? You’re not serious. Have you never seen your face before? Get moving.” Dr. Noelle hisses.

Duke doesn’t move though, and instead stays completely entranced by his own reflection. Lawrence can only laugh.

He rubs at his face and points at his nose, “That’s going to leave a scar isn’t it?” he asked no one in particular, there was a good chance he was asking himself. 

“Will the scar affect your power?” Lawrence asks.

“Unfortunately it will be less effective. Are you attracted to men, Knight?” he asks. 

Lawrence answers immediately, “I have been.”

“Then what about me? Do you feel attracted to me in this moment?” he asks.

“Is this really necessary?” Gala asked, obviously annoyed.

Duke shushed her and looked to Lawrence who hadn’t responded yet, mainly because he was trying to answer in the most accurate way he could. 

“No, you are very attractive but, I don’t feel anything.” he tells him honestly. 

Duke despite all of his flirting up to this point, smiles. “Very well. Then my power should be alright- thank you for your honesty dear.”

Lawrence reaches out to lift Duke off the ground, he takes his hand and gives him a small kiss on his cheek in appreciation and Lawrence easily returns it. 

Dr. Noelle was far ahead of them despite needing Lawrence to know where he was going, Gala not far behind. Lawrence struggled to catch up with the doctor, once he had they continued to walk in mud, muck, and rain for the next hour or so.

Lawrence feels Duchess’ presence much sooner than he anticipates.

Dr. Noelle looks at him and squints, “What? Do you know where she is?”

“I do.” 

Everyone looks at him then, Bella stands at his side and awaits orders to follow him.

“Good, then that means she’s alive?” Dr. Noelle asks, voice filled with hope.

Hearing it made Lawrence hesitate. He struggled to tell him, not wanting to crush his spirit. “Not necessarily, I can find the bodies of the deceased if the death is recent.”

Dr. Noelle’s face was worried but he doesn’t say anything. Perhaps in fear of maybe making it worse. He tried to stay positive, they all did.

Lawrence rested a hand on the doctor’s shoulder in an attempt to reassure him, luckily he didn’t shake him off, but also he didn’t say anything in response so Lawrence treaded ahead of him, “I’ll go see first.” Bella follows close at his heels.

It’s a small house, though upon first glance he mistook it for a small cabin. 

He peeked past the door and was immediately startled. There was blood pooled on the ground and the body of a woman. Bella growled and effectively made Lawrence more unsettled. He covered his face with the hem of his shirt and Duke- like the gentlemen he was-pulled Lawrence back by his shoulder to look in his place, Dr. Noelle close to his already three steps ahead.

Duke staying close behind him held his weapon out and called out into the darkness, “Is anyone here?” 

There was no response.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably.

He lit the lantern Dr. Noelle was carrying. The moments Lawrence spends lighting it must have felt like centuries to Dr. Noelle whose breathing was increasingly getting heavier and heavier.

When Lawrence pointed the lantern Dr Noelle sighed immediately.

“It’s not her,” Dr Noelle breathed out, probably for the first time the entire trip. They continued into the room and stepped over the deceased body. The jewelry and oddly colored eyes indicated the body was a witch. The clothes she wore were torn to shreds and she was beaten pretty badly. Not a good sign, there was still silence and a possibility of some other danger waiting for them further inside.

Duke and Noelle’s investigation took them behind a bar. They peer behind it to find a woman passed out against the counter with bottles at her feet. Duke was quick to notice, “Duchess,” he gasps. Dr. Noelle rushes past Duke and retrieves her wrist. With his opposing hand he rests the back of it to her forehead and after a moment of silence he broke into tears.“My god! Thank god!,” he cries. “She’s breathing, she’s just unconcious.” Dr Noelle says slowly, keeping his calm like a true doctor.

Lawrence looks around, it appears to be an old wine cellar. There was hardly any booze on the walls though, all of it seemed to be gathered at her feet. She had light wounds but overall was in good shape. 

The smell however was awful, between the booze, vomit, and dead body.

The first thing Lawrence notices about Duchess is that she is extremely tall. 

Duke dragged her limp body from the counter, she was all muscle the only fat on was from her large breasts and bottom. She is wonderfully melanin, darker than Dr. Noelle’s, eyes, and hair. Her lips were as big as her eyes. If she wasn’t covered in bile, blood, and booze she would have been an absolute bombshell. 

Dr. Noelle didn’t look surprised to see her in this state relieved of course- and maybe just a tad disgusted? 

He immediately took her from Lawrence. She looked peaceful in his arms almost in an instant, there was a lot of familiarity. Lawrence found himself envious of that. 

“Hendel-“ She spurts, her eyes fluttering open. Dr. Noelle removed the stray strings of hair from her parted lips. 

“Belcali, are you alright?”

“Fine, just have a bit of a headache.” she says slowly, attempting to touch her face with her messy hand. He bats it away. “I’ll clean you up before the girls see you.”

“Oh,” she says sadly, realizing the situation she was in. “Oh honey, the girls. Hendel, I’m  _ so _ sorry.”

“It’s okay love, you couldn’t help it, you must have been attacked.” he says brushing it off easily looking more like himself, he was sweating and breathing a lot. The shakiness had vanished.

“She could help drinking the witch's entire distillery.” Duke says blatantly and Hendel immediately shot him a glare.

Duke’s right though, by all intents and purposes she should be dead- no matter how huge she is, and yet she’s just mildly incapacitated. 

A miracle? 

Maybe. 

Scary? 

Most definitely. 

That’s because within 30 minutes of walking she was alongside them like nothing had ever happened. Gripping at her head and groaning a bit. 

“What the hell happened?” her husband asked, his voice scolding.

“Please don’t fuss at me dear, you were so sweet earlier.” 

“You were in a much worse condition, you are very lucky to even be alive.”

“It isn’t luck I assure you, I fought for my life.” she says firmly.

Dr. Noelle shrinks back a bit.

“She approached and before I could even react I was sent away and brought to this old wine cellar. I recognized it of course, it belongs to a lady I went to school with.” she explains, “The witch's power was sculpting weapons. Luckily it wasn’t fire based, I’d be dead in an instant if that was the case. Afterward I celebrated my victory with some booze, but I seem to have gotten carried away.”

“You should have grabbed a bottle and brought your ass home instead of indulging yourself, you’d be dead if we didn’t come to patch you up. Some of those wounds were nasty.” Dr. Noelle shoots back at her, successfully gaining his footing.

Duchess actually looked ashamed for a moment and apologized again. Dr. Noelle made a ‘hmph,” sound and the two don’t speak to each other after that.

Duchess instead approached Lawrence, who up to this point, was silently watching the couple quarrel. 

Lawrence was tall, and many considered him as such but Duchess was standing eye to eye with him, he was able to get a clear view of how they smiled.

“Belcali Dee Noelle.” She introduced herself whilst outstretching her hand to him. 

He takes it without hesitation,when she squeezed, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.  _ What a strong grip holy shit- there are men in the tavern who can’t compare to that, _ “What does the “D’ stand for?” he wheezes out, mostly as an attempt to pull attention away from his moment of weakness.

“Dee.” She answered letting go, smiling all the while.

“Pardon?”

“D, D-e-e.”

“Oh.” he says stupidly.

She looks to Gala and Duke, “Quite the company.” She titters and Lawrence couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be an insult or not; he rubs away at his hand. 

“He’s funny  _ and _ cute.” Duke complimented, talking about Lawrence as if he were a shopkeeper showing off a new piece of weaponry. Lawrence had never thought of himself as cute or funny but he wasn’t disappointed to hear those words in regards to himself.

“Oh, cute is he? Does Prince know about your  _ cute  _ companion?” 

Duke scoffs, “I don’t owe him an overview of my personal ventures. Besides, Knight is my friend.” 

“Just when I thought you guys were getting exclusive too, such a shame.” she said, then turned her attention to Gala, “What about you Princess?”

“What about me?” 

“I know about you and King, everyone does. What’s that like?” 

Lawrence’s stomach shot into his throat.

“There is nothing to know.” she says quickly, almost as if she thought saying it fast , would keep anyone from responding. It worked on Lawrence, but the same couldn’t be said for anyone else.

Duchess laughed at her, “I do not resent you for making basic human connection, my sweet, however the same cannot be said for the others. I, however, think that if you two keep dancing around your feelings you both will end up sad and all alone. ”

Lawrence wished he hadn’t heard anything of it. Gala didn’t say anything after that. All for the best, ignorance was bliss afterall.

“As if to be alone immediately means unhappiness. Here you stand “happily married” and have spent the first moments of reconciliation with your grumpy old man quarreling.” Duke says and Dr. Noelle gritted his teeth at that.

“Shut your mouth you cockalorum!” he weakly insults. It rolled off of Duke like water on a duck’s back and actually gains a laugh from Duchess.

“Princess you lucky bitch you have someone as powerful as the King clamoring after you.” Duke continues and Duchess agreed which is something Lawrence was learning she usually did.

Gala still doesn’t speak and that worries Lawrence more than it logically should. He knew such a relationship existed, why would he want to interfere with such a thing? Was he some sort of sadist?  _ Get over yourself.  _

“How are you my love? It feels like  _ years _ since we spoke.” Duchess said bumping her side into Duke playfully .

“Don’t be so dramatic, it’s been two months at most.” 

“A lot happens in two months.” She tells him.

“You can say that again. So, why haven’t you been home yet?” Duke asks which is a question all the others had probably been wanting to ask, even Dr. Noelle, though in such a short time Lawrence could guess that he wouldn’t want to admit it.

“New Hampton is a lot farther from Awlbar than Jaqulier White, Costa, or any of the other neighboring cities thank you very much. And horses aren’t common enough for me to use one through all this mud and muck,”

“We don’t use horses anyway,” Duke tells her.

“You may want to reconsider that stance, if this curse The Princess has is on a time limit you may be doing a great disservice by staying on foot.”

“I don’t quite have the money for a horse, and I haven’t been outside of the Liar’s Province in years. I’d have no idea where to purchase one.” Lawrence joins in, he looks for Gala and Duke, “What about you guys?”

“My coin purse was missing when I was rescued.” Duke says smiling nervously.

“The same goes for me.” 

“What? There was nothing on that wench when I killed her!” Duchess protests.

“That was not the same witch. The witch we are referring to had bright red hair and blue eyes.” Lawrence explained, confused.

“Hold on, the witch I encountered was an older thing with shark eyes.” Duke told them for the first time. Their heads snapped over to him, and it dawns on them. 

“So it’s a group, now this is odd.” Duchess says.

“Witches don’t work in groups.” Gala attempts to correct.

“Apparently they do.” Duke quips.

“Why wouldn’t they, witches aren’t so different from us- why do you guys not see that?” Lawrence asked.

“These witches are different, many witches we’ve encountered in the past didn’t even speak, they resembled beasts more than people with gruesome features and unstoppable powers,” Duchess tells them.

“So our prediction was correct, Belcali.” Dr. Noelle says.

“It seems so, my dear,”

“What? What prediction?” Lawrence asks.

“We’ll speak more about it back at the house.” she says, effectively brushing all incoming questions off. “All this talk of witches makes my stomach ache.” 

“You sure it’s not all the booze?” Duke jabs at her.

The whole way there they are bothered and anticipating the answer to her prediction. 

They eventually made it up the spiraling staircase. Lawrence was somehow even more exhausted from the strain. Luckily the journey wasn’t as long as what he’d become accustomed to but in his condition running even a small errand felt like an epic quest.

The house was silent outside of the whistling of wind, it was warm and smelled heavenly.

“It’s a good thing I cooked up a boil,” the doctor says stripping pieces of his outdoor gear off into his billowy white shirt.

Duchess looks at him for a moment before she wraps her arm around her husband and kissed him on the forehead. “I haven’t had a good boil in centuries.”

“You’re exaggerating, I made it this time last year.” he’s rolling his eyes and pretending to look annoyed but it’s the biggest smile Lawrence has ever seen him wear.

“Too long.” 

Duchess motions them to take a seat and focuses on her food before continuing their conversation.

Lawrence finds himself disappointed with that for a second but a single chopped potato took him elsewhere. It didn’t just smell good. It was delicious.

The group was silent, except for Duke who moaned after every spoonful. Dr. Hendel put a quick stop to it, Duchess just laughed it off and made similar noises without interference. 

Gala was silent eating away with an apple by her bowl. Dr. Noelle made a face or two at it worried she would put it in his dish but she did no such thing. Instead she nearly licked her bowl clean and saved that apple for dessert.

Lawrence didn’t realize he was smiling until he heard Duke snicker. Lawrence tried to recover by eating his spoonful of food and instead dropped it back into his bowl clumsily. 

Duke chuckled elbow propped onto the table, head in hand. “Would you like me to feed you instead, since you’re injured.”

“Hey! Get your elbows off the table! What were you raised in a barn?” barked Dr. Noelle.

Duke violently flinched and removed himself from the table. 

Gala laughed behind her hand, the other holding her apple. Lawrence found himself smiling again. This time he wasn’t alone in it.

The food was eaten within a couple minutes, Duchess having devoured easily thrice the amount of food before returning to the conversation. Prompted by the always curious and never subtle Duke. “So what did you mean by all that cryptic stuff in the swamp?”

“I’m saying that the witches we’ve been accustomed to all this time are much different from the witches of today,” Duchess begins to explain.

“How so?” Lawrence asked.

“Well, Witches aren’t as easily discernible from humans, they aren’t grotesque and monster-like anymore, they resemble the average man and woman. They form families or at least reproduce sometimes amongst themselves and other times with humans. They are learning to adapt to the hunt by blending in.”

“Wait, my aunt was always like that. We lived in a town where everyone just thought of her as an angry neighbor.” Lawrence explains to her.

“I’m sure it wasn’t the exact same. This aunt of yours, was she private?”

Lawrence thought for a moment before responding. She hardly ever left her house let alone the Liar’s Province. They’d moved there when he was young, he had very few memories of Paradise, the place he was born, “Severely.”

“I’m sure she was quite nasty towards others, even you.”

“Definitely.”

“Did she love you?”

“I couldn’t tell you what that entails,” he admitted. Duchess up to this point was hard focused and staring deep into him, not to be abrasive or intimidating but to ensure that he could be honest with her and it was very effective. He felt like he could trust her even with a room full of people, one of which was the shrewd Dr. Noelle.

Close behind were two girls hair braided to their scalps, hazel eyes squinted against the low light produced by the sconces in the dining hall. They were cute, but the resemblance between them and Noelle made them intimidating and Lawrence didn’t make a major attempt to greet them. In between yawning and rubbing their eyes they stumbled into the remaining chairs and listened to their mother silently. Duchess didn’t stop to change the subject with her girls in the room, she gave them a large smile in acknowledgment and continued.

“Does your Aunt’s attitude towards you not strike you as odd, Knight?” Duchess asks carefully. Maybe in an effort to keep from upsetting him but Lawrence felt no such way.

It had, especially when Lawrence had spent his whole adult life witnessing what normal families were like, the closeness and the simplicity. He never had such a thing. His growing up resembled two warring factions avoiding confrontation on unoccupied land.

“I understand that she wasn’t very kind, but she took care of me. She didn’t hurt me.”

Duchess didn’t even try to hide the sadness in her eyes, “I’m sorry to hear that. Your situation is better than most witch and human relationships. Perhaps it was because you were blood, even animals understand that.” She stopped for a moment and Lawrence waited for her to continue, “Lawrence, you may feel inclined to show sympathy towards these creatures but, I will be the first one to tell you, as one of the oldest members of the Noble Houses that witches aren’t like us; though there is a possibility that could change.” She turned to look between both Gala and Duke, “This could make our jobs much harder.”

Gala and Duke watched her intently. Lawrence knows without their looks that Duchess is telling the truth.

“As a mother and a wife I have a duty to my family and to many others in this country of Awlbar to protect with the abilities I’ve earned. If the witches evolve than we must too. They got the jump on us once but we will beat them at their own game.”

Lawrence looked to Duke who was in an almost meditative state, his hands were clasped together on the table. He looked down at where they were joined, “I haven’t said anything about it, but I’ve seen such a human-like witch before I came to this region. In Costa, my homeland, the witch that took our home resembled a young dame. What she was capable of was monstrous. She took the lives of many, she took the life of my little brother, Lucio.”

Lawrence was taken aback, it was the first time Duke had been so serious. He looked at Lawrence with earnest. “I plan to bring her head back home as an example for any other witch hiding in Costa awaiting to harm anyone else. If they can blend in than nowhere and no one is safe.”

Duchess gives him a nod in appreciation and turns to look at Lawrence, “You are one of us now, Knight; once we retrieve King and the others and relieve Princess of her curse we can take this information right to the Noble Houses.” 

“Is that whose in charge of your group?” he asked.

“They founded us, and they also pay us. So yes, they are our employers.” 

“I see,” Lawrence shrunk in his seat, it was more than he had ever planned on getting involved in. 

“It’s a lot, I know.” Duchess continues, reading his mind somehow, “You’ve managed so far despite your injury, I’d be happy in joining you in your quest. You’ll struggle a great deal without my muscle. Besides, no one should have to deal with my brother on their own.”

“Your brother?” Lawrence asked.

“Marquess,” the three told him, all in different tones- the one that stood out was distaste.

Lawrence could already tell he was in for a rough ride.


	11. Chapter Eleven

“And here is my collection.” Duchess said gesturing to the many bookshelves along the walls in the foyer. Each bookshelf was piled with all sorts of odds and ends. The longer you looked at any one you would see more and more. Weaponry, taxidermy, vases, rugs, jewlery, traps, mirrors, fabric, and so much more. It looked like a shop rather than a room with miscellaneous findings. Lawrence half expected to see a cash register in the corner with a little old man trying to barter him out of all his money. Now that would have brought back some memories.

Lawrence seemed to be the only one who was taken by the whole display. Except for Duchess of course, who gawked at it like she’d never seen it before. “It’s been so  _ awfully  _ long,” she whispers to herself in wonder. 

From clothing from all corners of the world, old toys and trinkets, to books of varying subject matter both old and new, Duchess had it all. She looked so proud as she plucked a bangle from off the shelf and hugged it to her large chest. 

“I forgot about these,” she says as she slips them on. Her arm is outstretched before her as she admires the silver rings. 

She shows them to the group, “Aren’t they magnificent? Princess! Here! I have a choker you’d like, so you can get rid of that old one.”

Duchess attempts to take the choker. Before she can, Gala grips her own neck and frantically shakes her head. “Oh, very well, you can put it on yourself when you feel more comfortable.” Duchess says in a motherly tone. Gala looked at the choker Duchess gave her and slips it into her pack. “Thank you Duchess.”

“Nonsense! I have some others if you’d like.” she begins to rummage through the stuff before pausing and shouting. Duke flinches in place scowling in her direction at her sudden outbursts, Lawrences’ heart stops, Gala watches her wide-eyed, and even Bella was awoken from one of her many naps.

“Hendelllll!” she half coos, half yells.

“Yeah?” He rounds the corner at breakneck speed, startled.

“You dusted all the shelves while I was gone? You are a doll.”

A small, relieved smile ghosts its way onto his face, “Of course.”

She smiled at him before turning her attention back to the crate of necklaces and various other pieces of cloth and lace.

“Wait are these my underpants?” Duke asks, holding out a thin piece of cloth that Lawrence thought was another choker, rather than a pair of undergarments. Duke studies them in absolute horror.

“No, they are Princes’.”

“No _ ,  _ no, no they are  _ definitely _ mine.” Duke clarifies confused with why such a thing would be in Duchess’ possession in the first place, but not a bit ashamed.

Duchess understood, “Well, I found them in his room.”

“That’s disgusting! Why are you collecting others’ undergarments?”

“Don’t call it disgusting, I didn’t grab them because they were underpants- to be completely honest, I couldn’t even tell that’s what it was at first, I’d just never seen such a thing. Hendel was even kind enough to clean them for you, isn’t that right darling?” she asked innocently.

Hendel’s eyes grew three times their original size, which were often slim and calculating. Now they were panicked, Lawrence couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

The others joined in and Hendel looked absolutely mortified, “You made me wash-, I thought- I thought they were- I...” he stumbled, realizing that there was no coming back from the embarrassment of the situation.

Duke seemed to relax a little and regain his footing, “You better not of done anything strange.” Hendel looked like he was going to puke or run away. Luckily, he did neither.

Lawrence found himself asking Duchess questions hoping to hear fascinating stories tied to them. But most of the answers were short or ended up in a shrug- much to his frustration. Lawrence began to slowly realize that a lot of Duchess’ collection were just things she thought were cool. There wasn’t much more behind it, she liked something and she took it. Yet, he still was enamored with it all, he even wished he had such a thing in his own home- like a library or a music room- those were definitely better alternatives.

The group silently rummaged through the collection. Gala was secluded from the group as she poked around meticulously. She read pages of books, ran her fingers along the button noses of dolls, curiously studied the paintings she found. 

Lawrence wanted to ask her which one she liked.

Her face warped from silent curiosity to something sad in the small amount of time he spent watching her.

From the shelf she plucked something Lawrence couldn’t quite see and cupped it to her chest like a baby bird. Lawrence decided that he had to know what it was and kept himself from being a spectator.

Upon closer inspection he saw it was a pair of gloves.

“They’re Masamune’s.” she told him, meeting his eyes for a moment. She spoke as if he knew who she was talking about. e furrows his brow. “King,” she clarified.

_ So that’s his name.  _ “Oh,” was all he could muster. Because he’s disappointed, the conversation between her and Duchess flooding back into his mind, he does his best to not let her know that.

“They were a gift, I gave them to him years ago. I didn’t know that he didn’t have them.”

She looked hard at the gloves to prevent the emotions from showing. But Lawrence, for once, was familiar with the feeling of trying to stay conserved. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder like he’d done when she tried to escape a week prior. “We will find him.”

“I know,” she told him. That surprised Lawrence. Although he said it he wasn’t necessarily convinced he’d be able to track King completely. Gala’s eyes were still on him and he forced a smile, it eventually became a natural one when she lowered her hands and smiled up at him. 

He hadn’t been prepared for her smile, wow.

He hesitated to remove his hand.

“King-” Duchess reprimands whilst shooting a glare at Gala for having shared his real name so easily, continued, “Often leaves his stuff around. What a slob of a man, honestly.” she jokes more than criticizes him, “I miss that stoic bastard. You met him, didn’t you Knight?”

Lawrence didn’t respond at first but remembered that he’s not “Lawrence” to them, maybe Gala, but not anyone else. He was Knight to them. 

“I have, he’s the one that hired me. He’s definitely,  _ stoic _ .” Though that wasn’t the only word Lawrence would use for him.

“He is one cold bastard,” Duke says, and Lawrence nods. “Very much so.”

“He’s got Nobles on his back at all times, anyone would be that way in his position,” Gala defends and Lawrence felt a bit guilty for having trash talked him.

The group continued to snatch stuff from off the shelves, even Bella who found what appeared to be a little girl’s doll, except that it was discolored around its stomach. Lawrence quickly found out why. Bella holds the doll in her mouth and ambles toward Gala. Gala smiles at her,takes the toy from Bella’s mouth, and tosses it. The doll splits in two when she does so.Bella, instead of retrieving it, looks up at her confused.

“I’m sorry girl but you’re venom deteriorated it.” Bella abandons the toy altogether and curls up to sleep instead.

Lawrence cocks an eyebrow; Gala as perceptive as she is, explains. “Bella is a Bane, a breed of dog bred here in New Hampton with poisonous bites, which makes it very difficult to play fetch.” She laughs. Lawrence looks over to Bella who is completely done with the day by this point and smiles at her.

Duke hops back when he notices Bella laying by his foot. He scowls down at her and tries to move as far away from her as he can manage.

“Ah, here is something. This is Marquess’ favorite watch,” Duchess says as she places it in Lawrence’s hands. 

It’s expensive looking, “Is this real gold?” he asked.

“Actually it’s a gold plated titanium. Marquess and I have always had an eye for fine jewelry. See,” she points at the pendant around her neck and the bangles on her arms. When Lawrence really looked she had quite a bit of it. 

The house they were in was roughly the size of 3 houses in the Liar’s Province, the foyer alone was the size of the tavern he had stayed in.

Duchess smiled, “Marquess wore that watch for at least 3 years straight before he was arrested, I kept it here for him.”

“Marquess was arrested?” Lawrence asks, his mouth twisted.

“A long time ago now. His imprisonment happened within the first year of the Noble House Witch Hunters being founded, it’s been five or so years now. He doesn’t have much longer left, I’d say a year or so before he can return home.”

“What did he do?”

“A better question is: what did he not do? Between bar fighting, smuggling, and general disrespect towards authority he had written a target on his back. I’m sure he was caught for stealing,” Duke answers.

“So your order allows criminals to be apart of it?” Lawrence asks.

“Not really, he was arrested after he was already a member of our order. King, however, never cared what we did outside of witch hunting as long as we did our job.” Duke said.

It was hard for Lawrence to believe that such a guy could be so lenient when he threatened to torture Lawrence if he happened to back out of a deal at the last moment.But it was apparent that the King he was familiar with, and the one the witch hunter’s spoke so highly about were not the same person. Lawrence was part witch, afterall. He didn’t know how that made him so different but hatred runs deep. “So you know where he is?” Lawrence asks.

“He’s in Paradise,” Duchess tells him. Lawrence is immediately confused.

“I thought you just said he was in prison.”

“Yes. Paradise--home of the largest prison the entire country--is a correctional facility, at least that’s what they say. But since nobility is such a fan of irony it’s closer to a hell hole than any kind of help. Of course, knowing where he is doesn’t say anything. The place is massive. The prison is the entire country. I have no idea what cell he is in.”

“I was born in Paradise, it can’t be a prison.” Lawrence explains.

“It’s always been that way so there is a good chance you were born there. That would make a lot of sense, actually. Your mother was a witch. Many witches are in Paradise.”

“She died when she gave birth to me,” Lawrence tells her.

“So you must have inherited her power after she died. Your Aunt might have taken you and escaped Paradise, it does happen.”

He was never told anything about this, he’d been told he was from there but his aunt left a good chunk of his history out. He figured it was because she wanted to preserve his mother’s image.

He didn’t think any less of her then though, surprising as that was. 

His curiosity overtook him.

“So you don’t think King was captured by a witch?”

“That’d be one dumb witch,” Dr. Noelle pipes in from the doorway. 

Duchess chuckles at that, “That’s a logical conclusion to make, I’m sure a witch is looking for him but she’s shit out of luck. He’s in the safest place in our situation, ironic as it may be.” 

Duchess must have been actual nobility because she seemed pretty amused by the sudden irony. Her house was huge and her clothes were exquisite. Maybe she understood the nobles because she was one herself.

“Well then that makes this easy,” Lawrence says, and he believes it.

“Oh my dear, you’re silly for believing so as nothing can be further from the truth,” she tells him and Lawrence shrinks into his feet.  _ Of course. _

“We’re going to have to break him out.” Duchess says like it’s as easy as Lawrence was lead to believe.

“Wait, what? We can’t just leave him there?” Duke nearly screams, and Lawrence agrees with a nod, at least he isn’t the only sane one here.

“Does it seem wise to you to leave another witch hunter out of the fight? We don’t know what kind of witches we will encounter and without Marquess’ gift we could be at a massive disadvantage.” Duchess shuts him down in one fell swoop.

“Not to mention Gala’s curse dictates that all the hunters be rescued,” Lawrence says, surprised to be siding with her.

“That doesn’t count if the witch hasn’t captured Marquess. He was imprisoned long before this whole mess started,” Duke shoots back.

“If you don’t agree to help break my brother out than you can count me out of this fight. The Princess’ life is worth as much as my brothers’, who's to say a witch won’t try to get him from inside the prison?” Duchess pleads.

Something else Lawrence hadn’t considered. The plan started to sound more dreadful by the moment. It’s worse that she has a point, one he can’t easily dispute to get out of this. He knows where this is leading and he hates everything about it.

“It’s dangerous,” Gala says, and Lawrence nods stupidly as she keeps talking. “There is a possibility that we all lose our lives.” Lawrences’ heart clenches, “Just what I wanted to hear.” he mumbles bitterly to himself.

“Beggars can't be choosers, Princess,” Duchess says simply and though she says it to Gala, Lawrence feels like he is spoken to as well, “Our order dictates that we lay our lives down for one another, the rule does not apply exclusively to you.” 

It bit like she intended it to, her voice was clear and sharp, not jagged and fueled by anger. She knew she had the upper hand and she knew that she had struck a massive blow, one none of the three could come back so easily from, no matter what. They were in for a world of hurt.

“Besides-” she continues, a smirk tugging at her lips, “Your chances of living are slim already, what’s a couple more obstacles, hmm? You are believed to be the strongest amongst us all Princess, why don’t you prove it then? If King were here, I’m sure he’d place all his bets on you. It’s another mission.” Her words were challenging but had a distinct and twisted sense of reassurance.

Gala didn’t look at her with disdain she nodded solemnly. “You are right.”

“That’s my girl.” Which comes out like, ‘Of course I am’. Duchess says playing with a strand of Gala’s stringy hair adoringly, almost taunting.

Hendel snickered from his leaning position at the door frame.

Duchess didn’t move from before Gala until Lawrence nodded. He turned to Duke who was also nodding. “My apologies,” he says. 

Duchess shakes her head. “You too are not beyond hope, the way you can admit your wrongs is a testament to your strength.”

Lawrences’ stomach subsides a bit from the churning. The unlimited possibilities still hung over his head, but knowing that he wasn’t in this alone seemed to put him at ease.

Duchess detached herself from Gala and proceeds to stride over to Lawrence who can only feel worried. Will she attempt to fondle him too?

“Here,” Duchess says, handing him something wrapped in cloth and heavy as all hell.

“What’s this?” As soon as he asks he figures it out; it’s a sword, but it’s oddly shaped, and it’s heavy. Oh, so heavy.

Before Duchess can say anything Duke looks to him blankly “It’s  _ his _ .”

As if Lawrence could ever guess who she was referring to, Duke shoots Duchess a questioning look, “It’s Prince’s,” she says smiling. She turns her attention back to Lawrence and jabs a finger into his chest. Ithurt more than it should have. He hated himself when it causes him to cough, what was this woman made out of? Stone?

“You need a weapon that isn’t that flimsy dagger. Just until we find him. Besides, it’s one of his favorites and he’ll be glad to have it back. Plus, you’ll be able to track him too.”

“I can only track one thing at a time,” Lawrence tells her.

“Unfortunate, but all gifts have their limit- Marquess is our first priority. Prince should be able to handle himself until we find him.”

Lawrence wants to doubt it, because this whole mission seems to get more and more impossible but he has to have faith in the Noble House Witch Hunters: In Bella, Duke and especially Gala.

Lawrence takes the sword and feels like there is no turning back. He accepts it in a moment of courage but it feels fragile and temporary, it works for the moment but not long after he will look at that sword and question himself. As he tries to wield it and attach it to himself he feels like a child- the others had made their weapons look like sticks- he feels stupid and out of place. It doesn’t help when Hendel snickers,  _ again.  _

As he struggles a steady hand rest on his where it rests on the hilt. Gala helps him. “Try holding it like this.” She shows him and he mimics her. 

It’s still awkward, but it’s a stepping stone. “Thanks.”

“I’d be more than happy to show you some basics, enough to defend yourself,” Gala offers. He feels very conscious of his body, and his heart especially, beating slow and fast all at once. Suddenly he doesn’t feel so bad and instead is excited by the prospect.

Lawrence is snatched out of himself when he hears Duke whistle and the blood begins to rush into his cheeks. It doesn’t help when Duchess chimes in, “Oh,” is all she says, not amused, not disappointed and Lawrence feels similarly. 

There is only silence and as usual Lawrence cannot for the life of him read what Gala’s feeling, either she’s really good at suppressing emotions or he’s really bad at reading them. Most likely both.  _ What a combination _ .

Duchess speaks and puts the moment to an end. Something Lawrence is almost thankful for. “Well, I’m exhausted, how about you all? I say we all set off to Paradise come the morning, since every minute is vital- I can even pack us lunches! Right Hendel dear?”

Dr. Noelle looks sad for a moment, something Lawrence should have been happy to see but he understands him somehow then, he looks so vulnerable but puffs up sighing, “Of course my darling,” He kicks himself from off his place at the door and gives them a curt and monotone, “Good night all of you.”

“Good night.” 

The night goes by quicker than any other in Lawrence’s entire life. 

No time.

No rest.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Lawrence felt the complete impact of Gala’s sword hitting his and he coughed a bit but overall was satisfied with his block, he was the only one however. Gala took her opportunity and pairied in one fell swoop and knocked him onto his ass.

It didn’t help when Princes’ heavy sword flopped onto his chest, making him feel even worse. He could hardly muster the strength to pick it up and press onward. One attempt to lift it makes it fall just as quick when his noodle arms give out and he grunts breathing heavily.

A duet of groans comes from the side where Duke and Duchess sat snacking and watching. “Cheap shot.” Duke said smacking his face.

“Are you blind?” Duchess asks him shooting forward with her arm out in the direction of the now fallen Lawrence, “That was perfectly fair!”

“How do you figure?” Duke challenges.

“The Knight was too satisfied with his block and in that same moment grew overconfident and was taken down!”

Lawrence nods in agreement and feels stupid when it was so easy to have seen from the sidelines, no one sees him and the two carry on.

“But he’s so cute, at least go easy on him. He’s never handled such a massive piece of weaponry before.”

Duchess laughed and smacks Duke’s arm. 

The two share snickers which bring the sparring between Lawrence and Gala to a temporary halt. 

“Hey! Could you two keep the commentary at a minimum we are trying to concentrate!”

Lawrence hunched over hands on knees and sword on the ground his shaggy hair matted against his forehead, eyes closed.

Duke was up and handing him a flask. “You poor thing, here take a seat and drink every last drop.” Lawrence handled the flask studying it before attempting to hand it back to him, “My dear its water I assure you, booze never lasts with me in this cold.”

Lawrence downed the flask more of which ended up on his shirt than in his mouth before gasping.

Gala watched on silently before snapping her head to her feet.

Duchess wrapped an arm over her shoulders. “You didn’t notice?”

Gala gritted her teeth now drenched in guilt. “It’s alright, you’ve never been the coaching type, you are scared for him?”

“He won’t last in any fight,” she tells her.

Duchess shakes her head, “I don’t think so, he is strong perhaps not in the terms we are familiar with but he didn’t let you know he was struggling- he may have never told you.”

“I would have stopped!” 

Duchess only pats her shoulder gripping it before leading Gala, who is much smaller in height and stature toward the two men.

Lawrence breathes hard his entire shirt completely wet. In this cold. Duke’s attempting to put a jacket on him but all Lawrence can keep chanting is that he’s hot.

Gala stands before them quietly for a second but Duke won’t allow her to do just that.

“Did you come for some water too Princess?’ He asks teasingly.

Gala tries to ignore him and only spares him a side glance.

“Lawrence,” she calls to him, her voice velvet.

He perks up reaching for his weapon. Duke puts a hand over it and points to Gala who is now struggling to speak.

Lawrence growing a tad anxious decides to prompt her, “Yes, Gala?”

Then she says something no one expects. “Will you take a walk with me?”

Lawrence is taken back but in no way disappointed. He instinctively looks at Duke and then at Duchess, who isn’t far behind the standing Gala.

Duke is also confused but one look from Gala puts it to rest.

“Just don’t be too long, it is your life after all,” he says, crossing his arms to rest against the tree log.

Duchess makes a face but concedes, whilst taking a seat beside Duke, “You’ve got an hour, don’t try to stall for time- we are retrieving Marquess.” She reminds Gala who only nods. 

“That’s plenty of time.” she says before beginning to walk.

Lawrence’s thoughts begin to spiral.

Between the heat, the cold, and the exhaustion he feels like he’s under the influence. Keeping up with Gala who is walking so fast that he’s convinced she wants to make it to the end of the world.

He wants to tell her to slow down but he can’t bring himself to tell her. He can’t even bring himself to tell her why he doesn’t want to tell her. He just walks on, even Bella is having to jog to keep up with her.

Luckily though it isn’t long before they come upon an empty place. This wasn’t a strategic location, it’s a single tree amongst miles of open space. They were closer to Paradise then New Hampton now and it was starting to get warm, there was still a distinct chill in the air but it is pure summer compared to the absolute hell that was Jaqulier White.

They took up shelter beneath that single dead tree. She sat atop a rock and wrapped her arms around a single propped knee. Her eyes met his and Lawrence felt numb.

‘What is this about?’ Is the only question on his mind, a million potential answers. Some a million times more hopeful than others.

“I am strong,” she begins.

Lawrence laughs very shortly, it sounds more like a cough than a laugh. “Uh, yeah, you are very strong.” He says, trying to understand what she’s saying despite it being all intents and purposes quite clear.

“You, however, are very weak,” she tacks on and Lawrence only nods again.

‘What is she on about?’ He now asks himself trying to give her the benefit of the doubt but if grade school taught him anything this was just schoolyard bullying.

She reads his expression before continuing. “I don’t mean it as an insult.”

He believes her.

“I only say it because we are in a really compromising circumstance and I think it would be wise to reflect before continuing on this journey- even if it means withdrawing entirely.” Her words are slow but they are heavy and Lawrence feels each one as they fall onto his shoulders.

He reflects, there has been quite a bit of danger so far, but he’s already made his decision, long before this- not in New Hampton, or when they found Duke but outside Anida’s Lair that night. “No, I don’t want to back out. I’m with you.” He tells her.

Gala looks conflicted, and it makes Lawrence feel conflicted despite the honesty and earnest in his words.

“You cannot hesitate, Lawrence. We’ve been fortunate enough to avoid an encounter with a witch but I know how they operate. Sooner or later they will confront us. You are an asset, the only true hope to reverse my curse. You are also the weakest amongst us and you could be a target.”

This isn’t anything Lawrence hadn't already thought of, but hearing it from her, spoken in her voice--so level yet so grim--he really did reflect hard.

But his answer didn’t change.

“I’m aware of your concerns, but I’ve had my chances to retreat. You need me and I need you to stay alive.”

“My life isn’t guaranteed, I could lose my life along this mission to a spiteful witch.”

Lawrence didn’t want to think about it. For such a thing to be true there is power that could overthrow worlds- Gala’s strength was unlike any he’d ever seen- granted he hadn’t seen much but he knew despite comparison, she was destined to become Queen. With strength or no.

“I can’t say that it won’t happen but it’s highly unlikely, the others would be quick to come to your rescue.”

“Isn’t that the problem though?”

“Pardon?”

“I am not a true Princess-“ she starts, and quickly recovers, “I am not nobility, I am not some precious thing that needs to be escorted from place to another, it’s only my title.”

“The title is proof of your strength. King is no true King, he’s selfish and uncompromising, intimidating and results to fiendish tactics like blackmail and torture.”

“You speak very poorly of him.” 

“I’m sorry, I know he is someone of importance to you, I don’t say it to upset you-“

“You’re not upsetting me, I understand. Many among us are not fond of him. He is exactly as you say. I’m sure others have plenty to say about your aunt despite never having known her.”

She makes a strong point, “That’s true.”

“Like your aunt, Masamune was also my caretaker.”

“Wait, King raised you?”

Gala nods, “Of course,” she says it like its obvious, but it most certainly isn’t to him or anyone other than the witch hunters.

Lawrence feels an ocean of relief and something bubbles up in him like a geyser and he wants to spew out all that he feels, how happy he is that King was just her caretaker. That he wasn’t her lover. 

He only smiles and Gala is rightfully confused. Luckily she doesn’t address it.

“I’m weak too,” she tells him, “compared to Masamune that is.”

“Really?”

She nods.

“Well, I can be a bit sarcastic but my cynicism has nothing on my aunt. That woman would criticize a coin purse.”

Gala laughed, “She doesn’t sound all that different from him.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Never.”

“We’ll find him Gala, if he’s as strong as you say then he’s probably out and about looking for you.”

“Oh how I’d like that to be true. I don’t want our argument to be the last time we spoke.”

“You guys’ are on bad terms?”

“You could say that. I don’t go on hibernation like the others, often I just stay with Masamune and hone skills. Sometimes we endure harsh winters and move from country to country much like we are doing now. We’ve always been close, he took me in when I was very young and trained me to be an assassin. This was long before witches were commonplace.”

“You used to kill people?”

“I did, it was well paying since then I haven’t killed anything,”

“Witches?”

“Not a single one.”

“You’re lying, you have a gift.”

“I am lying, but not about killing- I have yet to kill a witch. My gift is a result of my assassin training not witch hunting. I capture, I avoid killing anything now. Hopefully it can make up for the lives I took somehow.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You are not one of us, you will not think worse of me for my deception.”

“I don’t.”

“There are those amongst us who will. It doesn’t seem logical for someone as strong as me to be giftless- so I instead give them a false sense of security. Still, it doesn’t do much. It would be worse if they found out the truth.”

“Does King know?”

“Of course.”

“You are really something,” he says and it brings them both to silence, neither would say that it was unlikeable though.

Lawrence spots something along the horizon and squints, “Is that Paradise?”

“It is, the wastelands. We are here for a reason, prisoners have a good chance of being spotted if they run or starve to death.”

“Home sweet home,” he jokes.

“Are you scared?” she asks him.

He almost asks what of but he already knows, “Yeah, I’m terrified.”

“And yet you still press onward.”

“What happens if we don’t succeed in breaking this ‘Marquess’ out?”

“We will likely be imprisoned. We will still retain our witch hunter status but I will certainly die before we will be released. So our only option is to break him out and escape.”

“That’s reassuring,” he says, feeling worse now that his fears feel more real than ever. He swallows to keep the lump in his throat down.

Gala grabs his hand and says, “Tell me about your mother.”

“I-“ he attempts to tell her that he never knew her, which is true but he instead follows along. “She was uplifting. At least, that’s the word my aunt always used. She wasn’t the kind of woman to gush about people, even the ones she loved. She spoke of her as if she was a nuisance for being so different to her, like: ‘Your mother never picked fights, she couldn’t pick a fight with a nearby house fly. Truly a weakingling, yet no one ever sees it like that.’ She’d talk about her in contrast to herself and I know it’s because she missed her and talking down about her was easier than acknowledging how much she cared for her.”

“Duchess is right, the witches are becoming very indistinguishable. That doesn’t sound too different from the people I was raised around.”

“King, you mean?”   
  


“No, I had a mother and father, once.” She looks at him and he doesn’t dare pry. She’s careful, close to leaving it at that, but also just as close to spilling it all out.

Lawrence places his hand on her as she did for him earlier. 

The flood gates open and out pours Gala. 

“Jaqulier White was once home to a kingdom. Not anything like the noble houses of Awlbar, a true Monarchy. My father was a King and I was an up and coming Princess. The Kingdom fell once my father found out about my association with a local witch.”

Gala nods when she sees Lawrence's face. 

“I had been given potions, to transform me into a princess.” She makes a single move to her choker and reveals a protruding an apple like shape between chin and chest. Lawrence had one too. He understands.

“What happened?”

“My parents began to take out their anger on me and one day it became too much, I sought out an assassin and the Kingdom fell.”

“You sought out King and he raised you from there. How old were you?”

“15. It’s been eight years and no one knows what happened. Not long after the two of us founded the Noble House Witch Hunters. I wish to atone for all the lives I’ve taken, there are witches out their that grants wishes and I will have her return those lives. I can’t do anything without Masamune.”

“That’s a noble quest.”

“You know that witches are more than the surface level demons they once were. If they resemble humans than I will have to give up witch hunting but Masamune doesn’t want me to. And I can’t bring myself to abandon him after all he’s done for me.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Lawrence tells her which doesn’t seem to be a conclusion she’s considered. “When my aunt was arrested I didn’t come after her, though I could have. I instead kept myself alive like she wanted me to, I visit my mother's grave like she had me do, and I worked hard.”

“So your aunt is also in Paradise?”

“I don’t know, possibly. She could be dead though.”

“There’s no telling.”

“Do you think of me as a bad person?” Lawrence asks after he tells her what he hasn’t told anyone. He feels a tinge of guilt for the years he’s spent selfishly supporting himself.

“I do not, do you think of me as one?”

“Not at all. Your wishes are true to you.”

“And your wish?”

Lawrence smiled thinking about it, suddenly his entire purpose singled in on a single point. “A house of gold, a picturesque wife, and a bunch of children.”

Gala looks a little taken aback, “Oh,”

Lawrence realizes how vague his dreams seems and how selfish it sounds.

“It’s nothing like yours, I just- I never had such a thing.”

“No picturesque women in your life?” she asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not a one.” That’s not true, he’s talking to one. He recovers, “That isn’t to say there are no beautiful women around me, just none who see me as a husband. Which makes sense, I mean I have no house, afterall. Not like the Noelle’s.”

“It was such a lovely home.” Gala tells him.

He nods, “Extravagant!”

Gala, now with her neck exposed, fetches the choker out of her pack and tries to put it on. Lawrence shoots up and takes it out of her hands and offers to put it on her.

She seems hesitant but gives in, moving her curtain of ink black hair to one shoulder. Lawrence wraps the lacy fabric around her ivory skin and feels a sudden urge to breathe in deep or place a trail of stamped kisses along her skin. 

He resists and ties it. “There.” He swallows. He notices it’s crooked. He touches her neck from the front this time and slowly adjust the choker. He realizes that he’s nose to nose with Gala when he looks at it. Now he’s got an eyeful of pillowy red lips and he finds himself overcome with urges, some big, some small, but all encompassing.

He sees her swallow and he unintentionally mimics her.

He’s not sure which one of them leans in. He doesn’t care.

“Hour’s up!” Duchess hollers and Duke is by her watching the two sitting around and dodging eye contact.

They both pull back and Lawrence coughs to try to cover up the last minute or so. Now he wishes he hadn’t spoken about his aunt or his foolish dream at all.

Onward to Paradise.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Lawrence feels his anxiety all the way down in his stomach, and in everything that is him. He had been so comforted by his companions up to this point that in some small way he felt as if he was blending in to them rather than his own being with his own fears and his own anxieties.

Paradise looked made of stone. It had the apperance of being abandoned but that was far from the case. Paradise was this brightly dim spot that seemed to detract all surroundings. Its walls weren’t daring or sparking any kind of curiosity, they were cold and distant, unwelcoming and unkind.

It seemed that he was the only one who felt this hopeless. Duke laughed to himself, actually laughed, as if the others had said something funny. Nothing was said and in Lawrence’s opinion nothing was funny. 

Duke’s hands were in the small curves in his waist and he leaned his weight into his hands hearing small cracks from his back. “Haven’t been here in quite sometime.” 

Lawrence gave him a look and it also wasn’t funny but Duke and Duchess shared a small chuckle.

“You’ve been here before?” 

“A few times...petty crimes. One of those times I managed to escape with a small group. I wouldn’t recommend that though, dangerous stuff.” 

Lawrence gave him a stupid look. “That’s what we are about to do.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Duke shrugged it off. Lawrence narrowed his eyes at him, 

and a sickly feeling overtook him in its place.

Lawrence wanted to leave. That was the only prominent concrete feeling he had. He wanted to escape this location, not go to a prison. For the first time he had no desire to rescue anyone, especially someone he didn’t know. He wanted to go home. He wanted a home to go to.

He wanted…

Lawrence stood frozen in place, rooted by his own fear. That’s when Gala, approached him, for a second she hesitated, but seeing him shaking in his own boots must have been enough for her to commit. It was such a tender touch for someone who could take down monstrosity after monstrosity. “Lawrence, are you going to be alright?” she asked him in an equally tender manner.

He didn’t know but his subconscious must’ve because he shook his head.

“What’s the matter?” Duchess asked, sounding like the situation was serious.

Duke frowned. “Now, now Knight we will not expect you to defend us. Just lead the way, we will handle any one who interferes.”

“That’s not it,” Lawrence says, sounding vague and detached because he doesn’t want to keep talking, he wants to run. The claustrophobic feeling of the unknown starts to eat away at him festering somewhere in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to stay here. He doesn’t want this to be his final place, far from other people, without the ability to wander as he pleases. He doesn’t want to be locked up.

He doesn’t even want to chance it.

Duke seems to understand, which is something Lawrence learns to love about him. He’s quick to act, quick to acknowledge, never scared to be wrong.

“I think we will be okay, you can stay out here.”

It feels like euphoria, and Lawrence wants to kiss his entire handsome face. But he never gets the chance to thank him. 

“Out of the question,” Duchess barks, barreling toward Duke equipped with a horrific glare. “We’ve been through this. Marquess is in there and Lawrence is the only one who can find him. What is it all of you don’t understand about that?”

“I do know that, but we won’t be able to get anywhere if he freezes up and is taken away or worse.” Duke tries to reason, outmatched by Duchess almost immediately. 

They are not equals, in any fight he will lose. Luckily he isn’t looking for a fight, but he can’t make the same judgement about Duchess.

“I’ll carry him then. Regardless of his concerns, he  _ is  _ going.” Duchess approaches him and Lawrence tenses up expecting Duchess to throw him over her shoulder and force him to go. There’ll be no turning back. If everything goes wrong, it goes wrong. Then there is no way to reverse the curse, no way he’ll get his money, no way he will see his house of gold. He flinches and grits his teeth. 

“Knight,” she begins gently, “ _ Gala,”  _ the name sounds weird, coming out of her mouth,” she will die if you do not go. I’ve been meaning to tell you my little brother, Marquess, can read minds. He can help us. His gift has been a key factor in many of our greatest victories,” she explains to him. 

_ She’s talking down to me like I’m one of her daughters, I can’t worry about such a minor thing though. If it keeps her from wanting to pummel me into the ground, then I will wear pigtails and skip for the rest of this quest.  _

”Even if we press on, there is just as great a danger awaiting us.” She’s standing before him with eyes like steel, she has a clearness that makes you not want to question her. No, a clarity that makes it so that you  _ can’t _ question her. She lays a heavy hand on his shoulder, “I-we all need you to be brave. Otherwise you leave the Princess under our care, and I can promise you that we will not choose her life over our own.” It’s honest, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

Lawrence looks over at Duke who shrugs. It seems he can’t counter that. Lawrence was hoping Duke would say more but apparently Duke was powerless when it came to his subordinates. “She’s one foot in the grave as it is,” he explains. It makes Lawrence sick to hear how easily he’d agree with Duchess and cast aside Gala, it begins to warp Lawrence’s perception of him, so it’s all for the good that Duke doesn’t go on.

“That’s sick,” Lawrence tells Duchess. “That’s really sick,” he says again, this time to Duke who avoids his judgemental eyes.

“But you’d be so quick to leave Marquess behind.” Duchess remarks.

“It was a moment of weakness,” Lawrence explains still feeling like a wet rag. He’s trembling and swallowing, clenching and unclenching his fists- “I won’t abandon you guys because it’s the easy way, or because I’ve lost hope in you.”

“We have not lost hope in you, Knight. Let the same be true for us. We will not abandon you.”

“Or Gala,” Lawrence tells her. Though they are nearly eye to eye their size is completely different, he feels toe to toe with her. He isn’t going to compromise.

Duchess moves her lips, contemplating for a moment before sighing. “Or The Princess,” she concedes.

Gala is uncharacteristically silent as she watches everything play out. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes to her. And she only shakes her head. He feels a bit silly, but knowing that she isn’t upset with him or his actions puts him at ease. “I’m not like you two, I can’t just mindlessly walk into a prison without thought of what’s to lose.”

“Duke pisses his pants when he sees a bird, we will not judge you for not wanting to stroll into the most dangerous prison known to mankind,” Duchess tells him and Duke scowls. Though she’s right. Turns out she was trying to help him earlier, in her very stern and motherly way.

He looks at all of them, there really is only one answer. If he wants Gala to live, if he wants to be with her than he has to fight for her. Whether it be in an abandoned field or in his worst nightmare.

Not long after they are entering the jail yard. Lawrence forced to lead of course, Duchess is close behind him, and it feels like she should be the one they follow but of course he’s the one who can track. He wonders if this is what hunting dogs must feel. Everything about her presence there is pushing him forward. Her larger than life presence feels like a wall forever closing in on his back. There is only one direction now. 

Within minutes of arriving they witness a horrific scene play out before them, chain gangs being dragged along by a single boisterous prison guard constantly yanking away at them, like a dog on a leash. Bloodstains spotted across the dirt floors, vacant of plant life, but if something were to grow there the only fuel would be blood and cloud haze. 

Duchess hisses a whisper, “Quickly, as soon as they are out of sight we rush behind.”

Lawrence was thinking the same thing, there were no guards posted out front or along the towering stone and barbed wire walls. What would they truly have to look for, sorrounding Paradise was a seemingly endless barren desert, any escapee would meet a fatal end and what lunatic would work their way inside. 

Of course the answer to that question was obvious, they were the lunatics in this scenario. Lawrence expected no less from a group who made a living finding danger. Had they no fear?

Those men in the chains had no one but themselves and their thoughts. They woke up to grey and fell asleep to black, both equally as silent and encapsulating. The Liar’s Province wasn’t a Utopia by any means but Lawrence would take the brown mudiness and dusty rooftops over the lifelessness of Paradise. To think he was born here, what would have become of him had his Aunt not had adopted him? 

He didn’t dare to think of it. He was just overwhelmingly thankful. He couldn’t wait to escape this place. Damn Marquess. Why couldn’t he have been trapped in bog somewhere? 

Duke rested a hand on Lawrence’s shoulder, he covered his lips with a single finger and looked into Lawrence. Staring at him Lawrence swam in his amber pools it seemed to slow the world down. He breathed a tad more evenly before giving him a nod, as if to say, ‘thank you’ Duke trusted in him. They were here with him, he was not a prisoner here he wasn’t alone. He looked further back behind Duke to see Gala looking for any signs of danger, she caught his eye and she let a smile slip through. Their combined looks put his pounding heart at ease.

They managed easily, almost too easily, to rush past the group of prison guards as they were wrapped up in torturing the prisoners to acknowledge anything else.

Lawrence’s head sounded off and instinctively he weaved through empty hallway through empty hallway. Slow at first, to avoid encountering a guard, but eerily all he was met with was the bodies of guards, some bloodier than others. The guards were the least of their concerns it seemed.

Lawrence eventually stopped at a cell found amongst body after body they stand from outside Marquess’ cell where in the middle of the cell lays a woman in the bed hovering over a man, and a smirk ghosting its way onto his face.

“Wonderful, company.” Marquess says his eyes drooping, and oddly enough so does his smile. He has tattoos beneath his eyes and rows of hair strung together against his head. He’s exhaling smoke and laughing at nothing.

“What’s happened here Marquess?” Duchess cautiously asks. It is in fact Marquess, but it seems as if Duchess doesn’t know who he is.

“Witches,” he says smiling as if it’s an answer to anything and everything.

In that same moment, something shifts in his bed, and it makes everyone jump back the witch slithers her arms around Marquess who leans back into it. She peers over his shoulder and her hollow eyes focus on the intruders. “Want to become mine?” she tempts. The cadence of speech mimics that of Marquess’ just before. No one thinks of it as a coincidence. Her eyes unnaturally green eyes are smiling as brightly as her mouth.

There isn’t any hesitation from there, Duchess pulls at the bars and the almost seemingly come undone the witch is luckily just as surprised as Lawrence was and she snatches at the witch's neck in an attempt to sustain her.

The attempt fails and the witch lets go of Marquess and he slumps to the floor. Duchess reaches for his arm and flings him over her shoulder and turn in hot pursuit after her, Lawrence’s dizziness subsides and Duchess falls to her knees in the same instance. 

Duke is behind her first starting to shake her shoulders, “Hey, are you alright?” 

When he turns her to see her face her she smiles and picks up Marquess who lays unconscious on the floor, before rushing off in a hurry. 

“Shit!” Duke curses, “That thing, she’s got some sort of mind control,”

Gala looks at him, “She can only control one at a time.”

“How do you figure?”

“Marquess passed out when Duchess started acted weird.” she explains.

“I can only track a person at a time.” Lawrence adds which also adds to their theory, witch powers only affect a person at a time.

“Well for all intents and purposes an observation like that  _ should _ help but it really doesn't. We don't know anything about this witch we’re dealing with or what she’s capable of other than some small clues.” Duke adds. 

Lawrence, for the first time, feels no fear. Instead he rushes behind Gala and Duke, chasing the two black figures. Before them the prison cell is dark. It encapsulates all the fears that they've had up to this point. 

The Witch cackles and her laugh makes them all want to find her more. They recklessly chase the giant dark shadow that is Duchess, silently praying that they can keep up.

Duchess turns to face them suddenly and tosses whatever she can reach, whether it be guard corpses, their batons, or pieces of cells she’s torn apart. She lunges at them as they try to duck and return the favor.

“Where are the wardens?” Duke asks, suddenly realizing.

Gala points with her sword. There are men and women passed out like limp noodles against the cell walls. Lawrence leans and grabs the chin of a woman. He studies it for a moment, he can feel a small pulse and he breathes relieved. It seems that some of these people are just unconscious.

“They’ll be alright,” he tells them as he follows them in the newfound darkness. The fear is worse because they are in an unfamiliar location.

Lawrence isn’t used to asking for any kind of directions but the only person he can follow is Duchess, a fool mistake on his part.

Gala stops him with a hand, “We can’t follow close behind her, she may be able to lead us to the witch but it could very well be a trap.” Lawrence understands,

“This way,” Duke’s voice booms as he sprints down a particularly large passageway and they follow.

“How do you know where you are going?” Lawrence feels the need to ask him.

Duke shoots him a look and shakes his head, “If we survive this I’ll tell you all about it. But for now we need to help Duchess.”

They race further and catch a glimpse of Duchess again.

A woman's voice booms through the hallway before them, "Protect me!"

Lawrence's feet slow automatically. "That isn't Duchess' voice," he whispers. He swallows down a lump in his throat.

Gala must have noticed the strange tone of voice a well, because when Lawrence looks at her she is standing with her sword at the ready.

Lawrence swallows down a lump in his throat and looks to Gala who's already stood sword at the ready.

Duke copies her movement and withdraws his own weapon and eyes down Duchess who isn’t going to back down smiles wickedly.

Duchess thrusts forward and the two choose to jump back instead of returning the blow with a jab to avoid any unnecessary injuries.

Suddenly she’s closer to Duke than the other two and he has no choice but to take one of her blows. It crushes into his chest as it connects knocking him backwards. His instinct tells him to push onward, to move and avoid anymore damage. But it’s already excruciatingly painful.

He hears her roar from above him, likely to intimidate him but in a moment of what appears to be pure anger Duke kicks her leg. It appears to have done nothing and just hurt himself in the process.

As the two reach over to him they are blocked by Duchess who actually picks up Gala and tosses her into Duke before turning all her aggression to Lawrence.

“Shit.” He’s running now but he knows almost immediately how much of a mistake that is. He is knocked in the back with two clasped hands launching into his spine and he feels himself fold into it before falling onto the stone floor that feels even colder each time he hits it.

The sword on his hip is heavy but it's still a weapon. He attempts to use it to protect himself. He draws it and blocks a punch, Duchess rears back with a bloody fist, but it does close to nothing to stop her momentum the other fists hits him in the cheek.

He feels like he’s getting pummeled. His adrenaline has abandoned him and now he can only feel pain, fatigue, and of course the most prevelant with fear.

He grabs her hair, a sissy move but it works even for a moment, in the same moment he hits her as hard as he can muster with the hilt of his very heavy sword and she grips the sore spot. He darts off stumbling for a moment. He catches a rhythm and shouts at Gala and Duke as he runs past them. Their footsteps follow but from what he can feel Duchess is not far behind at all.

Her heavy footsteps fill him with all shades of anxiety. 

“Agh!” Gala screams and they stop for a moment, they hear clattering against walls and crashes onto the floor. Duke cringes, looking ever more annoyed by the second, “She’s throwing things!”

It appears to be a warden stick. 

They continue onward for a while avoiding as many projectiles as humanly possible.

Duke takes the lead cutting Lawrence off and beckons them to follow him, “Let’s try the balcony! I have an idea.”

Lawrence doesn’t know what this plan consists of but he isn’t in any position to argue. He follows Duke to a sizeable balcony where the night sky shines down on them. As predicted, Duchess is right behind charging toward.

As she runs forward Duke grabs her hands. He only catches one but Lawrence manages to catch the other one. He almost loses it too, but Gala helps him. “Now push her!” she orders them.

Lawrence pushes with everything in him. It’s a struggle on the balcony and it feels hopeless. He wishes she couldn’t fight back with her witch power that gives her a strength that is easily all of theirs combined.

He whips out his dagger and knocks the hilt into her head and suddenly her pressure is released and they sling her over the balcony where she falls with a thud.

Guilt fills his chest.

Gala notices it, before stopping him from falling into a pit of guilt. “She can survive a fall twice that high,” she assures him. 

“Hopefully that will be enough to keep her down,” Duke breathes, “Now the bitch.”

Tracking her down is darn near impossible. The prison is massive and every winding corridor Duke tries leaves them empty.

“There better not be more than this one witch otherwise we are in for it. Maybe they can just go invisible and we’ve moved past her hundreds of times already.” Lawrence says feeling more hopeless than ever.

“Bit pessimistic.” Duke quips.

“Standing here chatting won’t help us any.” Gala tells them, keeping a level head despite it all.

“That’s right,” says another voice, and in a moment she appears. Dramatically unveiling herself from the darkness and into the candlelight. She’s dressed in loose revealing cloth of varying colors with beads on her arms and ankles. Her eyes are the purest shade of green and her face is petite but venomous.

She’s wonderful but like a rattlesnake, a deadly kind of elegant. 

“Who wants to go next?” she asks Lawrence thinks the answer is an obvious, screaming no.

But it is Gala who says it: “Not a chance.” She charges towards the witch, sword in hand. Suddenly she’s turned around, handing the sword over to the witch who holds it against her throat.

All of Lawrence's weight sinks into his stomach.

“Don't-” he tries but she’s already pressing the sword closer to her throat, a stream of blood pools down the length of it.

“Ah, uh,” she coos wagging her finger at him. “Not a move little man.”

“What do you want?” Duke asks. They’re at a disadvantage, she’s taken control of their strongest member. She’s as good as dead.

“I like that, you know how to get things done,” she tells him smiling devilishly.

Duke frowns deep awaiting her to speak her terms, assuming there are any.

“I want Marcus,” she tells him. Lawrence is almost confused but realizes in an instant just what that entails.

Duke shakes his head, “Marquess is not for sale,” he tells her, quickly moving into negotiation territory. “What else? What about coin? Food? Hell, we even have an escape route.”

“I’m loyal.” She begins looking down to Gala. “You want someone, and so do I. I will give you this girl if you allow Marcus to stay with me, it’s simple.”

But it’s far from it. Gala is dead both ways and that is something Lawrence can’t accept.

“If I get that girl back to another witch then I will receive a life’s worth of coin,” Lawrence tells her and Duke snaps his head at him shaking it with a horrified expression. He continues despite it. “I’ll even agree to return him back to you, I have a gift, it allows me to track anyone. Just give us sometime and he’s all yours.”

“So another witch has you under some form of contract, hmm?”

Lawrence shrinks, that’s what she got out of all that?

“So you’re not  _ really  _ in a position to make negotiations then?”

They both freeze and she smiles at them.

“We need Marquess.” Lawrence begs her.

“As do I,” she tells him. They are running in circles now, her eyes will not relent. Her presence presses down on him like the witch Anida had.

“Miss, please.”

“Robyn.” 

“Robyn,” he pleads.

In an instant there is a burst through the stone behind them and there stands a bloodied, bruised, and beaten Duchess who takes the witch by her throat. She holds her there as Gala falls to the floor. 

Lawrence is quick to retrieve Gala. He holds his hand on her open wound as tightly as he can manage.

Duchess holds the witch, who is squirming in her grasp and attempting to speak. Duchess only squeezes tighter. “Not another word out of you.” She leads her to the balcony and tosses her off. Her body falls limp and with a thud.

In the same moment they hurry to Marquess’ cell where he is still fast asleep.

Duke tosses him over his shoulder and rushes out, leaving the whole place in shambles.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Seeing Gala’s blood was bitter. It actually stung to look at her, something so beautiful, slashed open. Lawrence wanted to puke but he can only feel worried. He couldn’t stop moving, reaching out to her, saying her name, thinking of all the possibilities.

Duke and Duchess were banged up but hardly shared her danger.

Lawrence selfishly wished it was Marquess instead, someone who was a thief, one who laid with witches, one who wasn’t even liked by his own witch hunters, but in retrospect many weren’t as fond of Gala either. 

Fools, all of them.

As if the two could possibly be compared.

He tried not to panic but he knew his face was giving him away.

Duchess was talking to herself, trying to retrace the first response techniques her husband did so mindlessly in an attempt to keep her stable if nothing else.

Bella watched over her, letting out the occasional and heartbreaking strained whine. She paced around trying not to get in Duchess’ way. 

Lawrence shared her torture.

He cursed himself, his abilities- and the lack thereof. He was a pathetic swordsman, an absolute travesty to take into any kind of battle. Most importantly there was his own power, the only thing that made him important. How useless it seemed now. What if, instead, he had the power to reverse time, to heal, or to grant wishes?

Instead, he was able to track them to a witch's nest. To lead Gala straight into danger.

What good would tracking do him now without the speed or the strength to get her to the nearest healer? What good was tracking if he couldn’t locate what treatments were best suited to help her in her critical condition? What good was tracking when it came to what he wanted?

Lawrence wanted Gala to live.

It was the only thing he wanted.

Duke rested a hand on Lawrence’s upper back right between his shoulder blades. Similar to how he did before they went into the prison, he pressed little circles in an attempt to comfort Lawrence. Despite his efforts the tension in his shoulders remained but he wasn’t quick to send him away. Lawrence needed them to be calm because he couldn’t be.

Gala was losing the little color she had. As pale as she was she always had a noticeable pink undertone and little pinch cheeks. Her lips were the brightest thing on her and they were cold and blue to the touch.

He felt the witch's iridescent green eyes in the back of his skull. Remembered how much color they had, almost too much- an excess that made them unlikeable and unnatural. How he wished he’d shed her blood and let her lips turn this queer blue. He wished he’d had the strength to turn her into something horrid, let her subordinates feel their world swept from beneath their feet. He suddenly shared the fervor Gala had upon their first meeting, the plain hatred King had expressed to him- he wanted every witch to suffer.

This barren wasteland felt like the final stage. Its isolated landscape hours prior was the birthing ground of something Lawrence had never before thought, now the potential resting ground of his hope and dream.

The witch had gotten them good, no one came out unscathed, that bitch got away. 

That twisted bitch got away.

All this time he truly thought he’d be the one in danger working to make sure he wasn’t a liability and by trusting in the others he forgot to watch out for her blind spots. 

He wanted to be in her place, even if he meant he lost his life- what would he lose truly? Lose the lack of a home? Who would mourn him? What would really change? 

Everything changed if Gala was gone. 

He was curled up into himself in a void of thought and imagining horrific scenarios. He felt frustration, he was calling out to the witch screaming until his lungs collapsed, for her to come back and for him to only let her go when he detached her head from her body.

He felt out of himself, he felt insane, but all he could think about was talking to Gala again, even for a moment he wanted to fix his mistake of tip-toeing around what he’d always felt.

If it ended here then so did he.

He had come up for a breath of fresh air, finally, after having sat for an hour that felt like days in the depths of an ocean, resting upon its floor, hearing only muffled movement and voices when Duchess squatted before him and gave him a real smile.

“She’s stable… ”

There was probably more to it. It didn’t mean it was permanent. But Lawrence didn’t need permanent he needed something no matter how small, an hour, a minute, a moment.

He just watched her sleep; really studied her for the longest time so far.

She looked peaceful, which should have settled him but the dead also looked peaceful. He didn’t want her to look dead. He wanted her to moan and to grimace in her sleep, to toss and turn, and to fight for this life that was draining from her.

Even if she lived now this worry he had for her life wouldn’t go away. She’d still have to press on, to fight. He didn’t want to watch her struggle, but he didn’t want to watch her concede.

Her eyes peeled open like a newly blossomed flower and so did his heart.

“Gala,” he called to her. She didn’t return his call but instead looked at him with glossy eyes. Lawrence’s heart ached to see how weak she looked.

He ran his hands over her bandaged up neck and he looked sadly at her.

She placed a hand over his hand and shook her head. “Don’t,” she whispered. 

It hurt Lawrence to think she might not be able to talk. He knelt down beside her, clutching her hand and holding it like it was something precious and fine. 

“I’m fine...” she tries to tell him the wheezing of the hair through her sore neck betrayed her lie She definitely wasn't “fine” that was clear. Her throat, though treated, was still a mangled mess. Gala was patched together haphazardly. Duchess was no Hendel- she was lacking in medical skills and accompanied by her memory easily frazzled and torn from the previous actions. 

He wasn't blaming her of course, or anyone, not even himself when he wanted to. 

Irritatingly enough he could almost feel the eyes of the eyes of the man, “Marquess,” watching over them, he made an effort not to notice since there were more pressing matters.

“You are not fine, and that’s alright- you will be.” The promise of hope puts him at ease and he hopes it does her the same kindness.

She sits up, which surprises him. He almost makes a move to lay her back down but she stops him with a firm hand. She breathes, looking dizzy behind her eyes. He sits still, watching her. “I feel filthy, I need to bathe.”said Gala.

Now that she mentions it none of them have bathed in weeks and he suddenly feels ten times worse especially in her presence seeing as she is so aware. “Maybe when you get to feeling better,” he suggests but she shakes that off just as quickly,

“I saw a small clearing a while back, I’ve been thinking about it ever since we arrived here,” she tells him, looking wistfully in the distance. How could she think of such thing after such a horrific incident? The difference between them is blatantly obvious now.

She looks like she’s bound to run off at any moment and he’ll be on her tail. He wants to escape this scene, escape the aftermath of something as horrific as a witch taking over the mind of his companions, and he wants to forget about it--if only for a moment. He wants to walk a distance without a time limit and without danger. 

“Then we should meet there, later tonight,” he suggests, his tone hushed. She hunches down to hear him and lightens up at the idea. 

She nods. “Do you think you’ll be able to sneak off on your own?” she asks.

Lawrence nods, he doesn’t really know but he’s more than willing to try.

When the night comes at an extremely slow pace he watches excitedly as she shushes Bella and tells her to continue sleeping, pushes her head down, and catches his eyes for a split moment. She doesn’t seem much different and Lawrence couldn’t be happier. It’s good that her injury wasn’t something too new to her, she’d probably dealt with the repercussions of many injuries.

The night is wild in such a dull way. His heart was excited, but he tried to suppress it so he wouldn’t stumble around and fuck up this once in a lifetime opportunity. He wanted to crawl the whole way there or disintegrate into a phantom and phase all the way there.

He couldn't though and kept his feet light, like a cat padding its way to its next uncharted destination. He didn’t need directions he got to just track her. For the first time in his entire life he was enjoying the trip, happily anticipating sharing similar moments to the ones they had earlier today.

What would she reveal to him? What would he discover about himself? How would he be able to keep his heart steady? He suspected he wouldn't be able to. But he also didn’t want to, the world was red. His blood was hot, his eyes sharp, and his feet quick. Before he knew it he had passed the hunters and was making it into the endless night. The silence was almost maddening but the ringing in his ears kept playing a tune of anticipation.

He stumbled upon a scene of Gala mid-undress before the lake, wide and glistening. He breathes in--breathing in for luck and breathing deep. The air feels blessed.

The gate keeps him from entering for just a moment. He is mildly surprised there even is anything gated out here.

He jumps it without much second thought.

She notices him now. In a garter, she sits with her feet in the water and waits for him to approach. He doesn’t know what awaits him, it could be a knife to his throat with her looking like that.

Moonlight makes her skin look like pure alabaster and though it’s gorgeous he just wants to know what it would look like with some color, the blood rushing to it.

He wanders over to her, his body tingling and floating. He takes a seat beside her and she’s smiling as big as he is.

His hopes are so high that a kiss just might kill him. At least he’ll die happy.

“Hi,” he says dumbly, but what can he really say?

“Hello,” she repeats, smile plastered on her face. He doesn’t think she looks dumb at all, his eyes dare to wander from their place on her face.

He doesn’t want to offend her but she looks far from it, touching his face and holding it in one place.

“I’m glad you came,” she tells him and instead of screaming, ‘Me too’ he settles for nodding like a fool.

He ends up hugging her instead of responding, only because any response he could give would come out like jumbled incoherent mush, which feels a bit forced since their position was fit for a kiss but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not yet, not when he was so weird. Lawrence hoped a hug would soothe his stress but it did the exact opposite because he was hugging  _ her _ .

She was small in his grip and he could combust from just how cute she was. He couldn’t think of anything now.

She hugged back after a moment and made it feel so much better when she positioned herself into something a lot more comfortable.

He breathed in deep, they smelled like dirt but it felt earthy like laying down in a pasture with the sun coating their skin. And though it's nighttime and there is a very thin layer of dead grass they sit down in it and it feels like a heavenly place. 

She breaks the hug for a moment to look at him. “Lawrence,” she starts and then hesitates to continue. He patiently waits for her to say the next thing, he would have waited days, luckily he doesn’t have to. “Will you join me?” she asks him and he nods again without making a move to take off his clothes because he slowly realizes what he just agreed to.

She stands in her garter and turns her back to him, she wants him to undo it for her. He swallows the lump that’s forming in his throat.

He removes her clothing, uncaring what's beneath it because ultimately it is her and he wants to see her in all her glory.

She’s smaller, lighter, and more beautiful than him and he knows this before he gets a full uncensored view. Despite the features that are male they are lovelier than his. Dips in her sides, dimples in her back, hair down to her mid back. She crosses her arms in front of her, the burn like scar prominent on her chest and Lawrence breathes in shakily. She’s a walking pendulum, slowly counting down and every step makes it speed up.

She walks forward into the water until it’s is just below her neck that he remembers can’t get wet.

He tosses off his shirt and feels impish because her big dark eyes are unfaltering as they watch him like she can’t miss anything. He ends up stripped completely and feels weird walking completely bare. He makes his way toward her, she’s not smiling but her eyes are. She reaches a hand to his and he feels like someone else when he takes it.

Their fingers dance together as they meet.

He lets himself be pulled into her embrace and they fall into a similar hug to the one they had earlier only much hotter and much more nerve wracking now. Skin against skin. His chest is at her face, he’s conscious of every last part of himself and tries not to offend her.

They seem to be silent for hours holding one another. 

The water stays almost entirely still around them.

He holds her and looks down at her as she stays with her head at his chest. Her head pulls back and looks at him. She’s so soft her lips parted in the way he loves so much that he believes she’s doing it on purpose. He doesn’t waste his chance, he dips his head to meet her, giving her a soft kiss.

It’s so warm and her lips feel so plump against his own. Their lips work away at one another’s discovering the taste, the feeling, making this feel familiar. Lawrence doesn’t remember closing his eyes. She ties her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss, he cracks a smile between their lips and she returns the same smile, he tries to keep his grin down so he can continue to kiss her. He ties his own arms around her smaller frame and lifts her against him, she’s surprised but not disappointed when her fingers dig into his hair and touch his scalp playing with his lengthy strands.

He keeps getting distracted by the reality of the situation. The thought that he is kissing Gala, or just a woman in general as sad as that may seem. He never thought he’d feel this close to another, especially someone he likes so much. She looks perfect, wonderful in essence, picture perfect yet unlike anything he’d ever imagined. He wasn’t creative enough to dream up this scenario and refer back to it.

He will, however, sing about this for centuries to come, to detail the feelings in the most coherent way he can imagine. There is a good possibility the lyrics will just be him screaming in tune because he can’t make out how he feels making out.

They are crystal clear as they disappear into both the water and the darkness of the night.

He feels grounded in this moment, like this is the most real the world has looked. As if the entire world’s resolution had increased and become so clear. Despite feeling blurry, this moment is all contradiction. It's cold this night but his body is the hottest it's ever been. The kisses are wet but his lips keep drying out. He feels like he’s floating but has never felt more grounded.

He doesn’t feel a part of this perfect world. He’s so lucky. He never wants it to end.

“I’ve had a lot to say to you, Lawrence.”

He looks at her and she begins to laugh a bit. “I noticed how your eyes are always locked on me, I had reason to believe that you wanted this,” she says, referring to their current situation. 

He is embarrassed but nods. “That’s correct, it’s hard not to. You are lovely.”

“You realize who I am?”

He isn’t sure exactly what she means by that.

“I was not always the woman I am now. Does this bother you?” 

“No, nor has it. You are you. And even in this moment all I can think about is getting closer to you,” he confesses. She looks taken aback as if he would have withdrawn completely.

“The only thing that intimidates me is that these feelings are exclusive to me, didn’t you just want to test the waters? I don’t know if I can just settle for a single night with you.” Lawrence tells her.

Gala looks around the surface of the water and directs her giant eyes back to him. “We may only have tonight, Lawrence. My life isn’t promised. Having suffered an injury earlier made me realize that I could lose the chance to share my feelings. I’m cursed,” she reminds him though he is more than aware of it.

“I know that, but we’ll reverse the curse.” Though he wants it to be true he doesn’t seem to believe his own words.

“We’ll try.” Gala mumbles, only audible because of the silence.

He pulls back. “No, I can’t be like this with you if you won’t do everything you can to live. To me you are worth more than a night of intimacy. You are someone to whom I want to spend every night like this with.”

“As are you.”

“Then will you fight?”

“I have been, for a very long time,” she tells him sadly. “I am not scared if the world decides that it isn’t for me.”

“The world has no say.”

“And you do?”

“No, that is for you to decide. I will fight for you, but if you will not stand strong for yourself than how can you expect me to?” he asks her.

“I can’t,” she admits.

“Gala, I know little of the life you’ve led up to this point, but I have no doubt that you can survive. Your colleagues as well have no doubt. King wants you to live.”

Gala pulls back, retreating into herself, eyebrows furrowing. Lawrence would think it was cute if her oncoming anger wasn’t pointed at him. He doesn’t falter though, he meant what he said. “Why do you bring him up?”

“I only hope that his opinion must sway you, if mine will not.” Lawrence says childishly.

“His opinion is of little concern to me. His well being, however, is a different story. It is unfair for you to use him as a means of leverage, and very cunning of you.”

“Only in regards to you,” he tries to reason.

“You should be the best version of yourself with me.”

“I believe I am.”

“I believe you are too, so don’t try to pull such unorthodox tricks.”

“Don’t give up then, because I will not.”

“I want to live.” she says after a beat of silence her eyes fully widened for the first time, not half lidded in this dream like state they found themselves in. She’s straightened out, unwavering. 

“Then you will.”

“As if it’s so simple… ”

“As if it’s so complicated.”

They study each other and then a breakthrough, she slumps in his arms. “I will fight.”

“So will I.”

“Your eyes look different,” she tells Lawrence and he cocks an eyebrow and his head along with it.

“How so?”

“They look bigger. Like, your pupils.”

“Strange.” 

“Wonderful,” she corrects, leaning in to him and pressing another warm kiss. 

He moans involuntarily at just the feeling. The warmth of another human being. It's so wonderful that it takes him back. Just how far has he fallen?

This excites Gala who in turn gives him her tongue. They dance and Lawrence's head feels wonderfully numb, he feels like she took something. Something he now has too.

Maybe their bodies will drain into some void in the lake and they will live forever beneath the surface.

The fantasy strangely puts him at ease despite the uncertainty. He finds that the unexpected things in his life have made it full.

Like this they explore each other as long as the night will allow.

The night slows to a still. When everything is said and done, Gala falls asleep. Lawrence watches her. Little does he know that Gala isn’t the only one being watched.

Something rustles the bushes around them and Lawrence is on alert. He refuses to awake Gala in case it’s just a rabbit. He wishes it was when the leaves part they reveal Marquess holding a finger to his closed lips and beckoning him with the other hand. He does it so effortlessly, Lawrence already knows this is nothing new for him.

Lawrence raises himself up and cautiously follows Marquess into the woods where he begins to talk to him like they were best mates. “ I’ve been looking for you, Knight.”

“”It’s L-“

“I know that,” he says turning to him. It falls pin drop silent for a moment before he continues to walk and talk. “But that’s not how we operate. You’re one of us and as such I think you’re long overdo for a rundown of our rules.” Once they are properly far away from Gala and the other witch hunters Marquess looks at him with sleek grey eyes and begins to lecture.”We use code names, we bring witches to justice, and if one of us is guilty we are  _ all  _ guilty.”

Lawrence’s eyebrows knitted together. He was coasting still from his prior engagement and despite knowing nothing of Marquess, unlike the other hunters, he didn’t feel caution or the desire to be cautious. If anything all he could feel was annoyed. Why was Marquess bugging him? As if he didn’t know all this already. So with that feeling in his veins he shot back, effortlessly.

“You’re giving me a rundown of the rules?” His smile widened. “We caught you with your pants around your ankles with a witch in your cell, mate. I don’t know everything about you guys or your rules but that’s a sure breach of contract.”

“So is what you’re doing with the Princess,” Marquess fires back. 

Lawrence is at first disoriented but the confusion subsides and understanding takes its place settling on him slowly. 

Marquess could read minds- Lawrence begins to panic. 

Marquess smiles. “I didn’t know if they told you I could read minds, luckily you think quite a bit. Especially about the Princess, and in such graphic detail too,” he taunts, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.

“Get out of my head.” Lawrence feels nothing. He isn’t being physically picked at but he hates this feeling, he wants to tuck it all away. Still, Marquess presses, taking actual steps toward him to back him into another corner. As if one wasn’t enough.

“I know what you want Knight.” Lawrence involuntarily runs through what things he could be suggesting. It doesn’t occur to him until it's too late that he can think up a lie.

“We are a lot alike it seems.“ 

Lawrence grits his teeth immediately rejecting anything he has to say. ‘Is he after Gala?’ he wonders.

“Coin,” he says after a moment of building tension. He gestures his fingers against his thumb rubbing in a circular motion. “I have need for money and King hired you? How much did he promise you?” he asks. He doesn’t need a response or in this case a refusal to give one. “No need, if you promise half of that large fortune I’ll keep your rendezvous with the Princess between us. If King finds out, you’ll be in for a world of hurt.”

It’s a threat. Worse, it’s blackmail. It’s such an underhanded tactic for someone who shared the same title as Duke, Duchess, Bella, and Gala. “If it wasn’t for me you’d be stuck in that hell hole with that monster. I don’t care who you tell. I’d be proud to stand by her side.” Lawrence’s blood rushes to his ears. He’s already gripping Marquess’ collar before he realizes what he’s doing.

There is a clicking sound and a cool metal against his temple. Marquess clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Wrong answer, fool,” he says. His eyes are like a python’s in this light. All he can see are those eyes and a row of teeth with gold trim. There is no witch here. This is all Marquess.

His stomach sinks to his feet but he doesn’t fight him. He feels at peace for a moment. He envisions Gala with her big red lips telling him the sweetest nothings, and before he can make sense of it the cool steel is gone and Marquess’ body dissolves into the shadows.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

The next morning Lawrence feels entirely new: in some ways great, in other ways horrible. While now he can share passing glances with Gala. Better now because their feelings were out in the open, established from last night, and better yet they were returned. He can also look at Marquess who had a pistol to his temple and tried to blackmail him for the same thing.

Not to mention he had to dodge Duke and Duchess in the process. 

Which proved harder than imagined since Duke was one persistent bastard. That's what friends did after all.

Duke approached him looking like, well like an angel. Maybe it was the sun hitting him in such a way, Lawrence couldn’t really make out the difference but he had to pause and just looked at him for a bit silently, his throat drying out. Duke tried to laugh it off at first but after seeing Lawrence a little starstruck he flinched, “Shit!” and covered up one of his eyes and smiled.

Lawrence’s heart stopped beating so fast.

“My magnetism,” Duke reminds him and Lawrence takes a closer look. He didn’t seem all that different but somehow it made him a gawking mess. “I told you it was something not to be joked about, if I obscure my face in anyway it lessens the effects. I’ll put on a mask or something later. Maybe an eyepatch,” he debates with himself. Lawrence laughs, covering up one of his own eyes to mimic his friend who smirks disapprovingly at him.

“You better be lucky that you’re cute. By the way- I saw you sneak off last night,” Duke starts, which puts Lawrence back on his guard as he removes his hand from his eyes, feeling a little silly now. 

Lawrence inwardly cringed, “You saw me?”

Duke nods, smiling like a fool. “I thought it was so cute though, so I just pretended to sleep.” 

Lawrence’s jaw drops a bit retracing his memories and imagining Duke in his sleeping bag giggling quietly to himself.

“Duchess did too,” Duke adds.

Lawrence pictures the two of them giggling at his expense and he wants to disappear. So much for keeping them secret. He’s slightly relieved because it made Marquess’ blackmail all the less effective.

“Don’t beat yourself too much my sweet. I know what it’s like to wander off in pursuit of a lover,” Duke tells him. Duke was probably the one being chased after by crowds rather than individuals with that power. “So this thing between you two is mutual?” Duke asks him, directing his fingers between Lawrence and Gala-who is feeding Bella bits of deer hide. Lawrence smiles stupidly. 

“It is.” He feels like he just inherited all the world’s coin.

“I was worried,” Duke tells him which, like most things he says, makes Lawrence confused. “I thought it was just a hopeless crush on your part, I was prepared to comfort you when you returned,” he continues.

“I thought the same thing,” Lawrence tells him truthfully. “But I’ve always had high hopes.”

“A dreamer, a sweetie, and a knight- she’d be a fool to pass you up.”

Lawrence shrugs it off. “I’m just lucky.”

Duke wants to disagree but settles for just shaking his head and holding out his arms, which Lawrence fills. “I’m happy for you, darling.” He hums to him in an attempt to put him at ease, and it does the trick for now.

“Hey, in prison you said that if we survived you’d tell me how you knew where you were going.”

Duke groans and rubs his hand down the entirety of his face. 

“You did promise,” Duchess nudges, her motherly hearing kicking in as she joins the conversation. Lawrence blushes hoping she didn’t hear too much but tries to act normal.

“Alright, alright so that night in the prison wasn’t my first time there.”

“Well that’s obvious,” Lawrence tells him.

“What? Do I look like a criminal?”

“Sort of,” Gala pipes in which makes everyone chuckle, even Marquess.

Duke sulks. “Anyway, I have quite a bounty on my head from my young days as a smuggler.” 

“You stole things from Costa?”

“No, I smuggled things into Costa. We are not the most plentiful when it comes to things like food and drink.”

“That’s not so bad.” Lawrence concedes.

“Well the drink was mainly booze and we weren’t very good at transporting livestock, at least not quietly. We usually stuck to things the nobles wanted- spices, jewelry, a tall bottle of the finest grigio. It was good money.”

“So who else was with you?” Lawrence asks.

“A couple of guys, my best friends Pablo and Roy, my lover at the time, Camden, and my little brother Lucio.”

Lawrence flinches, he remembers when Duke had spoke about his little brother, so he musters some courage and asks him straight out, “The one that you lost?”

Duke catches his hesitance and smiles easily, “Yeah, he was a sweetie. You remind me of him- always jumped head first into things, he was just, good. Better than the rest of the guys- especially Camden.” he tags on, clicking his tongue.

“Why don’t you just call him Prince, like everyone else? We all know who you’re talking about,” Marquess rags.

It isn’t true. Lawrence didn’t know but now it makes sense.

“We smuggled to make good money, the one thing we had in common was that we didn’t make much of it.”

“What about your magnetism?” Lawrence asks.

“Oh I didn’t have that until much later. It would have helped a lot. Luckily my beauty is something I was born with, so it wasn’t entirely necessary. I’d been sent to prison after the flood happened. I’d been tracking down that blue bitch for awhile but I always came up short. Since the country was now entirely poor bounty hunting became essential and someone caught me, alive. I was sent to Paradise.

“I wasn’t there very long before King bailed me out since my application with the witch hunters had gone through. I, unlike some of us, actually manage to stay out of prison after that.”

His comment doesn’t receive a warm welcome from the other two.

Marquess had avoided Lawrence all through the morning. All of his weapons are laid out beside him as he meticulously cleans every single one in his sleeve waiting for breakfast to be done cooking. They shimmer and reflect against the early morning sun once they are done, he even holds them up into the air and reflects the light in such a way that it hits Lawrence’s eyes. Something he really appreciates, let me tell you.

Duchess sits up with her arms crossed against her chest, sleeping of all things. Or at the very least, resting her eyes. 

Gala approaches the rest of the group and of course Lawrence is watching her. But he isn’t the only one, everyone is watching her and she shifts a bit beneath all of their gazes, Lawrence’s included, all different but all thinking the same thing.

In true princess fashion she tries to shake off the looks and continues on sitting beside Duchess. “Morning,” she says with a tone that isn’t welcoming in the least.

Duke and Lawrence sit adjacent to them and Lawrence does everything humanly possible not to keep gawking. Instead he is holding his hands between his thighs and tapping away at the log beneath them.

When he tries to avoid looking at Gala it is that fact that Duke will no doubt be entertained by all morning long. Whether he’s committing the act or no it’s for his benefit.

Everyone knows everything yet everyone decides to say nothing. Lawrence decides it’s for the best because nothing good will come of an opinion on his and Gala’s relationship. As Lawrence’s aunt had taught him, if you have nothing kind to say save it for when it’s most vexing.

Lawrence is cautious of Marquess, who no doubt must have learned of his aunt’s mantras because everytime he looks at him he can feel him calculating away. It could be his own anxiety, of course, but he wasn’t willing to take that chance, not after last night. A single glance at Marquess told you all you needed to know about him. They were on some odd terms to say the least- and he didn’t want to rock this boat anymore than he already had. Not yet, anyway.

Luckily, Marquess didn’t want to either.

Breakfast comes, as pathetic as it always does. It is charred half to death, which is always a better alternative than whatever food borne illness lives within it and eats away at the unsalted or heavily salted fish. The fish were the size of fists. Fists of children, not giants. The fish was easy to come by and very reliable in the winter but never tasty it was gaimey and pathetic. But it was still better than starving, sort of.

Duke is the funniest because he uses his knife to cut the fish into little itty bitty parts that make it not look like a fish all, once he’s done they are mere fleshy nuggets. He’s told Lawrence that he doesn’t enjoy eating animals that are intact. Though he can understand why, to a certain degree, the measures that Duke takes to ensure he doesn’t eat anything animal shaped is absolutely asinine. Lawrence helps him cut it up and takes the head for himself like a champ. Duke gags when he eats the whole thing in a single bite.

When that is finished Lawrence eats only until he’s satisfied and not a single bite more. For the remainder of breakfast Duke gazes at Lawrence’s or rather- Prince’s sword. Lawrence noticing his starring just silently holds it out to him.

Duke flinches a bit whilst shooting him a questioning look like he just cut him with it. “What are you doing?” he flabbergasts.

“Well, you were looking at it,” Lawrence says, attempting to hand it to him again. 

This time Duke jumps up. “I don’t want it, I just-”

Duchess chuckles with her fish on a stick pointed elsewhere. Her full attention is on Duke’s freak out. She shifts her gaze to Lawrence but before she speaks Marquess is talking. “You’re still hung up over that psychopath?” he asks Duke, who of course responds with no. But no one believes it, not even Lawrence who knows nothing of their previous relationship. It also seems extremely odd that Marquess need ask such a thing when he probably knew. 

“Whatever.” Marquess disengages in the same instance, gnawing away at his fish, letting more of it fall to his lap and lower lip than in his mouth. Lawrence can’t help but see it as disgusting display.

In an instant, when he leasts expects it, his head begins to tingle, a familiar sensation. He directs his vacant gaze to the sword he holds. “It’s Prince. He isn’t too far. I shouldn’t have such a strong sensation from just an item, meaning, he is stupid close. What luck! “ 

He’s at his feet clutching it, “This way,” he tells them. 

They all exchange a confused look but they catch on quickly.

“No rest for us then?” Duchess asks no one. She shoots her brother a smile and he smirks in response. 

“What did you expect? Some sort of cake walk?” Marquess asks.

“Not especially,” Duke pouts.

“Well you have yourself one hell of a hunting dog,” Marquess jokes. Lawrence feels himself stiffen but he keeps walking in hopes no one will acknowledge it, especially Marquess.

They follow for a week until they are at Costa. Somewhere Lawrence hadn’t planned on being but he couldn’t say he was entirely disappointed. He had no clue they were that close to begin with.

“I suppose we couldn’t avoid her forever,” Duke laughs.

“Her?”

“Costa, the motherland,” he tells him easily. It isn’t the homiest of locations: there’s a cool breeze but a sun threatening to beat down on them. Duke strips his jacket off and tosses it over his shoulder. The ground is covered with a damp sand that sinks very lightly under their body weight and there is the distinct sound of seagulls caws almost everywhere as their sound overlaps each other. It’s hot and muggy, unlike any place Lawrence has ever been or ever wanted to be.

Marquess scoffs, “Show off.” Duke turns back at him and clicks his tongue before leading the way. “I hate this place,” he continues mostly speaking to himself but Duchess looks curious so now they all have to hear about it.

“How come?”

He sneers, “I wandered this desert here for a couple days and nearly lost my life. I was stuck eating lizards and befriending snakes.”

“Sounds like you,” Duchess laughs. Lawrence smiles quite big at that, even if it wasn’t an intentional insult he appreciated that even those so fond of Marquess saw him as serpent.

In the midst of heat Lawrence jogs beside Duke, who is still standing and embracing the overbearing sun. They end up following each other whilst not knowing where they are going, bumping involuntarily into one another.

The marketplace they stumble into is bustling. It doesn’t notice them all standing there, as if it's something that always happens. Duke starts to lead.

There’s a platform and women all dressed loosely dancing to the sounds of drums and the claps of the audience. They are wonderful and fluid like the water that surrounds them and everything, on this peninsula. They’re are gyrating all over, their eyes are glued while Marquess wolf whistles. “I’ve missed out on so much since I’ve been in that hell hole.”

Duchess only rolls her eyes and then claps her hands. The others dance in one place. Duchess much more poorly due to her size, but she seems to be enjoying herself. Lawrence watches on and shares a gaze with Gala who is also well enthralled. For a moment, just watching the dancers, it seems like the world dissolves away.

A choir begins to sing as the dancers transition into the next dance and the group approaches to get a better look. The girls dance slowly but a lot more traditionally when a sudden burst of water blasts the audience and a symphony of screams follows. The whole scene is in disarray. “Get down!” comes a scream from Duke.

They are close to being trampled by the audience. Lawrence catches a glimpse of the dancer dressed in all white blasting water seemingly from nowhere, cackling as it rains down like a miniature tsunami.

“Is she a witch?” he asks as if such a thing would be so impossible to find.

She appears before them instantaneously, eyes unworldly yellow like the sunshine that’s everywhere. Her hair is braided, beaded, and colored turquoise. This is a color Lawrence has never seen on a human being. Which may be why he suddenly thought- she wasn’t human. 

Duke looks petrified. The others are too. As she smiles at them in her crooked way something stumbles in from behind her: a giant. In his hand, a man--a hostage.

The victim’s head is down and his eyes barely show through the shadow under his bangs, stringy and drenched. He’s walking with a stagger and a slight limp. He looks as if he could tumble over at any given moment. The witch's grasp is tight as she snatches the man from her bigger-than-life companion. She begins clutching him to her side like an expensive clutch purse. One that she carelessly throws to the ground before them moments later, looking into the eyes of the group one more time and challenging them to pick up the remains.

Lawrence hesitates, but not as long as everyone else. He’s at his knees before him attempting to revive the man without really thinking about it. In his moment of naivety he’s flung into the air at breakneck speed. He collapses to the floor clutching at himself feeling a pain in his lower gut.

The witch lets out a pleased giggle. Gala retrieves Lawrence. Lawrence isn't sure the witch will let her approach him. But in his confusion, he cant find the words to warn her. He needed have worried. She doesn't retrieve the same treatment.

“What have you done with him?” Duke interrogates, without much footing to do such a thing. 

The witch's eyes grow angry at his tone. “Are you dense, take a look! I tortured him you absolute idiot! Don’t think you are immune.”The tension grows thick. 

Duke though, never one to read or care to read a situation keeps on. “You are first on the list of witches to die at my hand, Sophia!” he tells her. Everything slows down as the hulk of a man merges from seemingly nowhere behind Sophia, engulfing her small frame. She seems to grow ever smaller beside the herculean man. His face is square and unmoving, eyes so still they follow you no matter where you look. She smiles up at him, playfully spinning on one foot in a girlish way. He doesn’t look at her but it seems he doesn’t need to because he’s fee-fie-foeing his way toward them. They brace themselves for everything they can imagine, though no kind of preparation could prepare themselves. The behemoth looks down at the man on the floor, unidentified still.

The giant stares down at him and a horrific scene plays out before them. Tied up on the floor in a feeble position he jets back and forth like a fish out of water screaming so much he can’t stop to catch his breath as he squirms in agony.

Duke’s pupils shrink seeming to understand the situation immediately. He begins to scream in such a horrible way it makes Lawrence’s heart bounce around in his chest. “Stop! Please!” now begging, the aggression is gone. All that's left is fear.

Sophia is already miles ahead of Lawrence in realizing this, she’s assumed her place above Duke. “Now you recognize him, the man himself, The Prince of the Noble House of Witch Chasers,” she dubs, laughing at her own joke. Her obnoxious laugh is shrill and grating on the ears.

“Please! Take me instead, leave him be!” Duke continues to plead, forgoing the humiliation Sophia is happily showering him in.

“I don’t know. How about you, Mason? Are you feeling merciful today?”

The hulk of a man, whose name must be Mason, only blinks and the screaming stops. Heavy breathing takes its place and Sophia scoffs. “That was quick. Consider it your lucky day, Duke.”

Duke rushes to Princes’ side and pushes back his bangs.

“Hey.” He tries to speak to him, ignoring Sophia and the danger she poses. But not Duchess and Marquess who step ahead somewhat cautiously, eyeing down the lioness.

Mason is standing still, his presence is threatening. No doubt he seems to be detached from the entire situation somehow. Lawrence notices but tries not to think too hard about it. He has never been one to test his luck.

Duke stands up, leaving the injured Prince to lay battered and broken on the ground beside him. He’s filled with resolve. He moves his hand in one smooth motion and unsheathes his own weapon. Sophia quirks an eyebrow at it. Amused by it. 

Mason robotically moves toward him and Lawrences’ breath hitches in his throat. Sophia outstretches her delicate hand and presses Mason back gently before anyone can do anything in response. “Leave it to me darling,” she flirts, fluttering her eyes at him. He doesn’t return it but instead blinks and obeys. She sways over to Duke, “How long have you been waiting, little witch chaser?” she asks.

It’s not a question that should be answered but that doesn’t stop Duke from answering. “It feels like ages.” 

Duchess actually chuckles at that, despite herself. She seems to notice the look of resolve that is dominating Duke’s face. Lawrence gives her a mix of confusion and disbelief. How did he manage to stay in control despite looking so terrified moments earlier? 

“Always one to exaggerate,” Duchess says to Lawrence who can’t imagine how she could even remotely joke about something like that at a time like this. He wants to believe that Duke has this in the bag but he’s weary. Most likely he’s putting up a front for everyone, he is probably way out of his element.

Duke looks to Princes’ body and meets eyes with Lawrence, who is shrunken pathetically behind Duchess and doubting everything he sees.

Duke doesn’t say anything to him, or anyone else. He just forces a smile, maybe to put them both at ease. That further proves that he is putting up some sort of front, but it’s all in vain. Lawrence feels worse, he doesn’t want this to be the last time he sees that smile. 

The witch and Duke distance themselves from the group. Lawrence watches them as long as he can but the desert mirage erases them from the horizon until all that's left is the steel man standing like a statue.

He looks to Gala, silently begging her to step in. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t run after Duke and the witch nor does she approach the man. Instead she stands: watching, anticipating something--anything.

It’s Marquess that moves, not without clicking his tongue. First he grips the collar of Princes’ shirt and drags him as if he’s already in a body bag. Lawrence runs over and takes Prince from him and sets him gently amongst the group.

Looking up he sees the gargantuan man and freezes up, ‘Why did he just stand there?’ he thinks, looking around with questioning eyes.

“He can’t do anything without Sophia’s say so,” Marquess answers and Lawrence remembers that he can just hear him in everything he thinks. 

“How do you know that?” Duke asks.

“It’s one of Robyn’s abilities. The witch from the prison. That man is useless without her. He’s basically a golem with a control rod.”

“You mean the witch in the prison?” Duchess hisses.

Marquess looks a bit startled but he shakes it off, “Yeah…”

Lawrence glares at him and he notices snickering in response, which boils Lawrence’s blood that’s already scorching. Gala begins to bandage the body, examining the many gashes and bruises. It’s the worst shape he’s ever seen a person in.

“Do you think you should be doing such a thing?” Marquess asks standing at an angle and observing Gala work away at the bandages. His demeanor makes him want to puke. Is he blind or just dumb? He wonders.

Lawrence goes to say something, he doesn’t know what but something to make Marquess wish he hadn’t said anything. But Gala laughs before he can speak, shaking her head a bit. 

“He won’t like it, that’s for sure. I can’t just sit by and see him like this. I mean look. He’s really outdone himself this time.” Marquess and Duchess share a laugh and Lawrence wants to scream. He doesn’t have to because his eyes must be saying enough when they look at him and confusion takes over their faces.

“What’s your problem?” Marquess asks because of course he does. Flashing his 

golden canines his darkness hanging over him like a cobra about to strike. 

Lawrence doesn’t fear it, though. He just feels a desire to grip its neck and shake. He nearly does, but that doesn’t keep him from wanting to. 

“Marquess,” Duchess begins to scold, she pushes back the side of her hair with her hand before speaking up. “Prince will be alright, Knight,” she assures Lawrence. It’s almost mocking though, as if somehow he’s the one who overreacted. Him! He can’t even believe it. It’s as if he’s seeing everything entirely different. Duke was on death row as far as he was concerned and Prince was slinging his cold limp body on it’s door.

“I like how all of you can just laugh in the face of your comrades.”

“I know you are worried for Duke.” Duchess says in her motherly way.

“You should be as well!” he screams at her. “What of him? Are we just to leave him to his fate?”

“That’s for him to decide.” she decides.

Lawrence grits his teeth. “That’s bullshit and you all know it!” He points at Marquess, “When this idiot was in Paradise we had to risk everything to retrieve him! But not Duke? If you lot won’t, then I will!” He tries to storm off but he’s jerked back immediately. He swings a bit thinking its Duchess but its Gala and he freezes, feeling lower than dirt and even, for a moment, crazy.

“Duke has been waiting for this for years. It's his entire purpose for joining us. That witch destroyed his home and murdered his brother, not to mention what she’s done to Prince. If we interfere he will never forgive us.”

“That’s so stupid! If we helped him he’d be okay. What if he gets hurt--or worse?” Lawrence shouts feeling like a child. He can’t contain his feelings they are as true as the blue that colors the sky. 

Gala breathes and looks down at her feet and forces herself to look at Lawrence, “I’m worried too, but he knows what he’s doing, he’s trained for this.” 

Just like that he’s defeated, he just has to accept it. He doesn’t though. He darts off, the sounds of the women fading into the background. He has to help. To his surprise Marquess decides to chase him.

After a minute or so of jogging they stumble upon a fallen body and Duke standing over it knife in hand.

“She’s not dead,” he tells them- “Ask your questions, and I’ll be through with her.” He addresses Marquess specifically.

Marquess doesn’t hesitate.

“Tell me everything you know,”

Though she doesn’t utter a word, Marquess’ characteristically dark face begins to pale little by little. 

“Duke, I’ve heard enough,”

“Wait! I know more don’t let him kill me!”

Lawrence looks over to the witch begging for her life and his inner knight kicks in, “Duke, it will do you know good to kill her. Revenge isn’t the answer.”

Duke glares at him, “Had she had even a second of hesitation when it came to my brother? And not just him what of the hundreds of other Costa citizens she didn’t hesitate to kill, what of them?”

“You aren’t their martyr.” Marquess adds on. Duke looks even more bewildered when Marquess says something. “You, you stay out of this!”

“Take my word, Sophia’s actions aren’t her own, she’s been under control in the past and now. I can explain more later. If you kill her you will not find your salvation. Instead, follow me back to the Princess and Duchess and I will name the one you should be after.”

“Knight,” Duke asks Lawrence nearly trembling, “Will you be able to track this witch?”

“Yes,” Lawrence tells him.

He closes his eyes and pivots away from the witch. Her eyes gleam with hope. Lawrence doesn’t look back though, he’s done what he could. He lends a shoulder to Duke and they make their way back to the others.

It isn’t long before Marquess is wandering back to them with a look on his face, unreadable by everyone. He looks shell-shocked. His presence prompts a bunch of questions. 

“Hey, it’s alright- just tell us slowly,” Gala coaxes him, holding his shoulders in place. Upon contact, he grabs her wrist and shakes his head at her with wide eyes. 

“That- she… she’s... wait-” He holds his head and squints his eyes. “I can’t make sense of it.”

Everyone is waiting.

“She’s working with King.”

They hear something collapse at their side. It’s a half-eaten apple. Standing right above it, Gala is staring at Marquess. 

“Tell me you’re joking,” she insists.

Lawrence even doubts it, and he’s known King the shortest amount of time. “He wouldn’t work with a witch!” Marquess looks at him like he’s stupid. And he just may be, but something seems out of place.

Duchess swallows, “This isn’t one of your jokes, is it Marcus?”

“You too, sis?”

She looks slightly defeated by that. “If you’re lying, then it’s blasphemy. But if what you are saying is the truth-”

“Then he’s working with one of the most deadly witches in all of Awlbar,” Duke reminds her. “Why would he lie about such a thing?” he presses.

“Because… He was mind controlled by one of those monsters just a day ago. Who is to say her effects have completely worn off? That Mason was under much the same thing. This could very well be a trick making us all fools for falling for it so easily. The King’s betrayal isn’t something we should consider so easily.” Duchess cautions.

“He seemed pretty normal to me this morning!” Duke exclaims.

“She mind controlled him!”

“That witch isn’t capable of such a thing! She’s a nymph type- you know? Manipulates water like the massive tsunami she brought upon this country!” he yells at her. Duke’s argument is heard, loud and clear.

Marquess strangely doesn’t take his turn to defend his case.

“We could always get Chancellor to double check,” Gala suggests rather timidly as if her idea has already been shot down.

Duchess actually seems to like the idea but isn’t given the chance to express her agreement.

“Out of the question! I will not potentially work under them just to check. Marquess is a mind reader, why and how could he make up such a thing?” Duke asks.

“I don’t know, I’m just trying to be practical,” Duchess concedes, bowing her head.

Gala, though, is still unsure. “What’s your angle, Marquess? What did she offer you? How much? Whatever she can pay you, I can pay more!” 

“She didn’t offer me anything,” he says simply. “You either believe me or you don’t. I don’t need this. You are all rogue just as much as I am whether you want to believe it or not.”

Lawrence believes him, “He’s not working with King!”

They look at him in disbelief and he doesn’t blame them. “Marquess tried to blackmail me in order to receive King’s large fortune. I don’t think he would have done such a thing if he was truly working for King.”

Marquess looks at him, shocked, and nods slowly.

Gala gnaws at her bottom lip, clenching and unclenching her hands. It seems as if everything she is learning is starting to get to her. She’s struggling to find one singular thing to address and investigate. “What else did you learn? How long? Why? Anything?”

Marquess frowns. “He’s working primarily with another witch, a red head. Her name is Anida or something.” 

Her eyes widen and Lawrence is right there alongside her. “That’s the witch that I found her with,” Lawrence tells him, believing more and more that Marquess has nothing to do with this even if he wanted him to be guilty.

“They concocted a curse but curse isn’t exactly the right word- it’s more like a love potion.”

Her eyes are now frantic, “What?”

“It works like a curse in the sense that if you don’t reunite with King it will kill you after hibernation. Other than that, all I’m getting is white noise. The bitch knew exactly what she was doing and who to single out. King is the only one, other than us, that understands the full extent of my power. No witch could know such a thing, especially an infamous water witch.”

Duke looks like he’s about to burst into flames, his skin is red all over and it isn’t just the beating sun. Lawrence isn’t far behind him but he’s gutted. He doesn’t want to be shocked, he wants to deny it like Duchess. But this makes too much sense. Or is he just wanting King to be the bad guy? No. Not for Gala’s sake.

“If what you are saying is true then King is working with monsters! Who knows how long we’ve been doing his bidding? He isn’t lost somewhere he’s purposefully dodging us. What’s King’s endgame?” Duke tells them.

Duchess, for the first time, struggles to speak but eventually pulls something out. “It’s not very likely we can track him, he had this whole thing planned from jump. He even gave us a tool. Only King is capable of such forward thinking.” She looks over at Lawrence and shakes her head. “We’ve been royally fucked.”

“So, what, are you going to back out?” Lawrence asks. 

She gives him a cold look and shakes her head again. “It’s tempting- but you did me a great favor with Marquess and I am a woman of my word. Don’t think it’ll be easy though- he’s the King for a reason.”

Gala ends up breaking away from the group and the group is quick to stop her. “Where are you going?” Duke calls out.

She doesn’t respond. Lawrence turns to the group holding out his arms. “Can I?”

They all conceded easily. 

Lawrence rushes after her.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Lawrence finds Gala hunched over and breathing unevenly. He decides against calling out to her and rests his hand on her back. She seems to fall into more of a steady breathing pattern. “Gala, I’m sorry.” It isn’t anything original or show-stopping but he understands that if their discovery has hurt anyone, it’s her. 

His heart is inside of his throat.

She doesn’t say anything but she sits beside him. “There is no need for you to be sorry. If anything, I should apologize for you for having been dragged into all this.”

“I could have not taken the job,” Lawrence reasons.

“I just know, somewhere deep inside me that I wasn’t a part of your grand plan.” She spreads her arms for emphasis her face still, her feet shuffling from beneath her.

Lawrence couldn’t believe she was an unstoppable witch hunter in this moment.Instead she resembled a young girl who’d been betrayed. He’d never dreamt of meeting anyone like her.

“You are not, but I am glad of it.” he says softly, touching her face as gently as he could manage. His admission seemed to decompress her and she ended up in his arms. He held her though it seemed odd at first. It wasn’t long before she was leaning back on her heels and looking at him- lips pressed outward ever so slightly.

He didn’t waste a moment before giving her what she asked so sweetly for. He didn’t want to waste the moment, no moment between them was promised and it was a sad truth. Nothing was guaranteed, not even this bliss they shared.

King made sure of that.

“I know there is nothing I can truly say to undo what’s been done,” he tells her keeping it vague and impersonal so that it doesn’t sting. She’s well aware and more than capable of filling in the gaps.

The kisses they shared, as wonderful as they were, wouldn’t be enough to numb her of the betrayal. Nothing could truly do that. If there were such a thing he’d bottle it up and feed it to her one spoonful at a time.

“I don’t wish to undo it. I wish it never came to be, to undo such a thing still leaves it in his heart and head. I wonder how long he brewed up such a scheme. Had it always been his intention? Or had he had some change of heart?” Gala wonders out loud.

“Does it truly matter?”

Gala thinks and seems like she wants to shoot back but allows herself more silence, more time to ponder it and then shakes her head. “I suppose not. Betrayal is just that, regardless of why.”

“I’d never betray you,” Lawrence tells her, and he means it too, but it's such an easy thing to say. Much harder to execute.

Gala knows this long before he does. “Only time will tell,” is her jaded response.

Lawrence feels immediately struck down. Though it may not have been her intention doubting him, but it's enough to make him question himself. He questions her instead. “Who's to say I will?”

“Who's to say you will not?” she retorts.

“You can’t shut me out without knowing.”

“Nor can I let you in so easily.”

“You already have!” he yells at her. It hurts the second the words pass through him and the final nail sinks in when he sees her face. 

It isn’t fair, this whole situation, how she shuts him off when he hasn’t done anything. He’s actively avoided hurting her, he’s fighting for her tooth and nail since it’s all he can do. Since fighting isn’t etched into his being like it is all these other with hunter monsters with their great strength and bravery. He’s surviving for her. He just wants the same in return.

He can’t bare to drag this out nor can he think of a way to resolve it when he doesn’t feel wrong in what he says nor can he truly deconstruct what it is Gala has to say against him. So instead he runs back and does what he can to avoid the questioning from the group.

They are never so courteous as to just let him be nor are they oblivious enough to just let bygones be bygones. They hear the fighting and are immediately alerted. The only one who cares enough to bother him is Duke but he’s nowhere to be seen. Lawrence thinks the absence is odd but he’s too borthered to pursue it just yet.

The night comes quicker than he expects it to, sleep finding him easy despite the morning beforehand probably on account of the fact that he wants the night to erase any transgression, He can’t bring himself to approach Gala quite yet and instead settles to investigating what he let pass before--Duke’s whereabouts.

He sees Duke first in the camp and makes a beeline for one of the tents with a bowl in his hand. He’s so focused on it he doesn’t notice that Lawrence is approaching him and is so startled that his sludge nearly jumps out of the bowl. He clutches his chest ever so dramatically and looks around before shushing Lawrence, despite the fact that he didn’t actually say anything or make any kind of noise to scare him. 

Lawrence smiles easily before he’s being dragged not into the tent but behind it. “Why are you following me?” 

“I’m not, why do you think you’re being followed?” he retorts.

Duke freezes. “Well, because you’re behind me.” 

“It’s midday and I just approached you, why so secretive?” Lawrence asks him teasingly even going so far as to poke his midriff. 

Duke flinches hard. “I’m not being secretive!”

“Is that why you dragged me behind this tent instead of going inside to have this conversation?”

“Damn you!” he gives in. “Why are you so smart, Knight?” Lawrence doesn’t think he’s smart. He’d never considered himself more intelligent than anyone, especially anyone else here. He just settles for a shrug.

“Alright, alright you. But if I tell you you have to promise not to tell anyone.” 

Lawrence already has his heart over his chest and makes an ‘x’ with his index finger. “Cross my heart.” 

Duke shoves his hand from his chest and peers deeper into his eyes. “I’m serious,” he almost whines. 

Lawrence frowns a bit and reaches for his hand, “I promise Duke.” Duke cracks a smile and looks around before continuing. 

“Okay, so you are familiar with Prince right? He’s one of our fellow witch hunters and he was pretty messed up thanks to that creature.” Lawrence nods quickly. “I’ve been taking extra care of him at night, he’s a past lover but seeing him like that really just made me think.” 

“Of what?” Lawrence asks.

Duke looks almost ashamed before turning his head away and laughing softly. “Made me think that I’m not quite over him, at a time like this too, I know. I promise my feelings won’t keep me from helping the Princess but- a lot’s been happening- with this whole King mess with the witches and now- him! How could this get worse?” 

Lawrence, despite himself, smiles. Even though this has to be quite the disaster for Duke it’s a problem he welcomes with open arms. It doesn’t put any stop to the ones already running their course but it puts him at ease somehow. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.” 

Duke shakes his head. “I had every intention of doing so but you just had to sneak up on me.” Lawrence laughs a bit at that but it dissipates as fast as it comes when Duke asks him, “Are you and the princess going to be alright?” 

Perhaps it’s the phrasing that puts Lawrence off the most, ‘ _ going _ to be okay?” Duke already knew it was bad. Did he expect Lawrence to have a solution?

How could he make up with someone he’s never disputed with? 

Was Gala even capable of doing such a thing? 

And wouldn’t conflict insinuate that there needed to be an apology to make way for a resolution? But why should he apologize when he was right in what he said? His head spun around and around. 

Duke, somehow realizing this, grips Lawrence’s face and smiles. “You’re as bad as me. Look at us, concerned with our hearts when are heads are nearly on pikes.” 

Lawrence laughs weakly. “So you know about us?” 

“It’s not one of those things us humans can hide so easily dear Knight, especially people like us that wear our hearts like sewn patches. It makes us lovely but oh so readable.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Neither do I. I think that’s why I like you, we are attracted to people who love like we do.” 

“What are you going to do?” Duke clicks his tongue and begins to tap his bicep with his finger, “Hell if I know! He’s still in recovery. He’s been clinging to me and saying  _ things. _ I want to believe that he’s just been through a lot but parts of me want to believe what he says is the truth.” 

“What kind of things?” 

“Oh you know, apologies and regrets sprinkled with the occasional ‘You look well’ or ‘Are you seeing anyone?’ He’s always been a sweet talker.”

“Like you?” Lawrence chuckles. 

“Please-” Duke scoffs. “He learned all of it from me.” There’s a moment when Duke doesn’t joke and his face plays out with pure concern. “I know he will be okay, I mean the guy is fucking borderline immortal for crying out loud!” 

“What?” Duke covers his mouth before sighing, “You should be an interrogator I swear.” Lawrence, again, doubts it but doesn’t say anything to keep Duke talking. 

“His witch power gives him regeneration, not entirely immortal but he might as well be, no matter how much of him you chop up he’ll regenerate. He’s actually quite elderly. I’ve always had a thing for older men, please just don’t judge me too harshly.” He attempts to joke despite saying something so offbeat.

“How did he inherit his witch power then? If the witch could just regenerate after she was killed?” 

“First, nothing is truly incapable of dying. Witches aren’t always women for one and secondly, and lastly, witches can pass on their powers without dying. I thought you knew that,” he explains. 

“What do you mean?” he asks dumbly.

“They give their powers as well.” Lawrence couldn’t believe it, but it showed that he didn’t necessarily need to believe him, witches were chock full of secrets. And who would know better than a witch hunter.

“I should give him this shlop before it gets cold, somehow this stuff can get worse. Feel free to come and meet him when you aren’t too tied up with other things.” Then Duke retreated into the tent and Lawrence stood all alone. Looking across the entirety of the camp it seemed everyone was tucked away elsewhere except for him for the first time in the entire time since they’d been traveling together.

Lawrence, without having to ask, knew the ‘other things’ Duke mentioned referred to Gala. But in the position he was in he wasn’t sure if approaching her again was a smart idea. He really wanted a clean slate careful not to send ripples and have them crash like the ocean but in much the same way didn’t want their uneasiness to sit like pond water and begin to mold and stale especially when up to this point they were like two streams meeting and rushing into a raging, glistening river.

Luckily for him this time didn’t go by silent for long. As he walked about the camp he overheard what was supposed to be whispers. The voices heightened ever so slightly in the conversation due to the topic. Then they shushed immediately to keep the other from blowing their cover. Lawrence recognized Marquess and Duchess who were arguing in attempted whispers. He couldn’t help but want to have some dirt on Marques. Anything these two weren’t being open about could affect all of them, no one was safe anymore. Not with the whole King fiasco having taken place not just a couple hours before.

“You are no better than The King!” Duchess criticized.

“It’s  _ nothing  _ like that!”

“How so?”

“I love her!”

“Do you realize what you are even saying? As a witch hunter… ”

“Hardly, I’ve been wasting away in a cell for years.”

“Then as a human being! They are monsters. You saw what they did to Costa, they tried to kill all of us! The bitch mind controlled me and tried to make me kill my brethren and you stand here and say you love it!”

“She was trying to scare you guys off, she was looking out for me.”

“Then why did you come along?” 

“To keep her safe. Thanks to me, she’s still alive.”

“Only until I catch her,” Duchess threatens.

Marquess snarls, “Witches are evolving, they aren’t just mindless demons.”

“Yes, they are much worse. They are mindful demons. You are risking the lives of myself, your comrades, and your niece!”

“I’d never let her do such a thing.”

“If she is as free-minded as you claim than do you have any true power over that? She’s not a pet, let alone a partner. You will rot if anyone knows how you’ve spent your years.”

“I’d rot happily. Truthfully those days I spent behind bars were the most freeing years of my entire life. This group, if we can even call it such a thing anymore has left us all out of house and home. We will be hunted. If one of us is guilty we are all guilty, remember big sister?”

“It’s true we are no more doomed than before, but somehow I expected more of you. How does this Robyn handle the thought of all the witch blood on your hands, the days we spent doing King’s bidding? Do you simply think all of that goes away?”

“I didn’t fall for Robyn because she was a witch nor did she for me because I was a safe option, it was beyond us. The odds of us living a normal life were nonexistent from the start, but we make the best of the hand we are dealt.”

Lawrence thinks of Gala and himself. Then, it wasn’t a safe bet, even less so now that he’s got a huge target on his back. But he wouldn’t change it because if you took that away they were no different. He didn’t want to put his life on the line for anyone. But now that he was here he was prepared for everything that entailed, living without her certainly wasn’t in the cards.

Nor was it for Duke and Prince. 

And it definitely wasn’t in the cards for King. The man who had everything regardless if those things wanted to be there or not. He wouldn’t have Gala. 

He abandoned them middispute and took up Duke’s offer to meet him in the tent. Granted that had only been offered half an hour before but it couldn’t have been soon enough.

That was before he swung back the front entrance of the tent and saw Duke straddling his patient on the bed. Luckily, they were both dressed but they could have been doing much worse and his reaction would have been no different. He held out his hand and began apologizing profusely attempting to retreat from the scene but Duke was shaking him a bit. “It’s alright,” He cleared his throat. “Don’t leave, I’m glad you showed up.” Lawrence cracked open his eyes and in the corner of them could see a pouting Prince. He hadn’t seen the man conscious yet but that was one of the worst first impressions.

He really went and did it this time, hadn’t he?

If any of them had walked in on the times he and Gala shared he would feel what Prince was no doubt feeling. Duke was pulling him toward the bed so he couldn’t exactly refuse the invitation. Before he knew it he was sitting in front of Prince who was bandaged from the neck down but sat up with perfect posture. All the wounds across his face, they looked well healed despite the 24 hours he had them, what kind of people were these witch hunters anyway?

Lawrence stuck out his hand and began to introduce himself. Prince looked between the hand and him and just when Lawrence was sure he was going to stick up his nose or worse, slap his hand away, he took it firmly and shook it once. “Well met,” he said. His tone was still suspect but Lawrence was just happy he didn’t treat him like dirt, just maybe the rocks just above the surface.

Prince, despite the wounds and gashes, looked very healthy--not to mention princely all around. Much like the others-especially Gala, the face and the title matched up exquisitely. Not that he ever envisioned Duke going after anybody who was below average physically. This was a bit overkill, most notable was this wonderful mole just above his upper lip that made him resemble a painting more than a person. Stringy curled dark locks and slim dark eyes, and this too was the man who was just below Gala in terms of strength. Could he fly too? He remembered what Duke told him outside the tent just then, oh wait, he was practically immortal. Great.

Duke smiled despite it all which could have been a good sign if Lawrence was more optimistic but he was on quite a nihilistic streak as of late. “Lawrence here is our knight, well… ergh... would have been. He is a human tracker, he used your sword to help track you, actually.”

Prince’s eyebrows narrowed once his sword was mentioned and Lawrence froze in place.

“My sword? The Knight has my sword?” he questioned. His narrowed eyebrows and eyes digging into Duke, someone who up to this point never stumbled in his speech.

Duke laughed a bit. “It served its purpose. It's all in tact I assure you, no harm done. Lawrence took very good care of it. Actually it was in Duchess’ possession before he got a hold of it you know.”

“I’m not surprised that Duchess would try to get her paws on it. What I am surprised about is that you’d let this amateur so much as look at it.”

“It was for your benefit,” Duke said back, more stern this time.

“Please, it would have taken more than that witch to finish me off.”

“Perhaps next time I should leave her to it,” Duke hissed shooting up from his seat, the back falling to the floor and Prince cowered a bit. Duke glared at him in silence for what was most likely seconds but to Lawrence felt much longer as each second drug its feet agonizingly.

Prince broke the eye contact first and looked to Lawrence, he flinched a bit when he met eyes with him and looked to his blanket instead. “Apologies, Knight,” he said slowly. Duke seemed satisfied with that and picked up his chair from the floor, dusted it off, and took a seat.

“I wanted you two to meet, Lawrence has become a dear friend of mine,” Duke explains and it makes Lawrence feel quite warm. He’s glad he’s able to say such a thing to someone he’s known for such a long time. 

“Well, he’s a lot less talkative than your other friends,” he starts struggling to shape words somehow, he looks at Duke a smile creeps it’s way on to his mouth, “And a lot more sober,” he tacks on which makes them both laugh softly. Lawrence laughs a bit too because not laughing seemed a lot more strange than to just force one.

“I know I invited you but you’re a bit early,” Duke says trying to avoid the elephant in the room.

Lawrence joins him in avoiding it by replying in the most jumbled way imaginable. “Yeah, well, I may have heard Duchess and Marquess conversing and I didn’t want to interrupt. As you know Ga- the Princess and I are on odd terms at the moment and well,” He avoids looking at him. “It seemed like the best course of action I suppose.”

When he does look up to get Duke’s answer he catches Prince cocking an eyebrow. Surprisingly though, he doesn’t say anything. Luckily, Duke is more than happy to help him in his time of need. “Well I’m glad you stopped by, the sooner the better.” 

Lawrence smiles nervously.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Prince asks him then. 

Lawrence doesn’t expect him to ask anything, especially something as simple as that because he really wanted to speak to Duke regarding what he overheard. Now he feels like he shouldn’t because he isn’t too sure what Prince does and doesn’t know. Lawrence doesn’t want to rock the boat. Not to mention he just whispered by the fact that he heard them talking when the truth is he heard them arguing. He understands that it’s not a safe bet to start this conversation and keeps it to himself. He goes for something just as risky but to himself more so than the group. He starts talking about Gala.

“The Princess and I,” he starts off slowly preparing himself to say what he didn’t imagine telling a complete stranger, especially one in the group he’s trying to keep it a secret from. 

He is interrupted by the always free speaking Duke who turns to Prince with a grin on his face and pats the bed excitedly. “These two are just the cutest!” he exclaims and though Lawrence is flattered he’s more worried now because Princes’ face is unreadable. It’s not just because they don’t know each other very well but because his face seems like a huge mix of all kinds of things: disappointment, disgust, confusion, pity even?

Lawrence braces for the worst but seems like speaking up for himself is the best option in this circumstance before Prince can pass judgement on him just yet. “It was never my intention, falling for her that is. King, before all this news of his betrayal had come to the forefront, before I even knew who you guys were, hired me to track down the Princess. The money he offered was enough to set me up for life so I took it. The King and I found her in Jaqulier White in a witches’ fortress and he disappeared, leaving me there. The witch wanted me to bring Gala back to King so that the curse she has would be broken, and I would get my money. I’ve spent so much time with her, and we’ve both almost lost our lives. I know she is cursed to fall for King or if I refuse to help her she’ll die. I’m unsure of what I should do. When I bring this up to her she shuts down and turns me away though I know she loves me and hates this situation, worse than me. I just- I just… ” He tries again, breaking into stifled tears. He’s unsure of why he chooses now to break down. Duke hugs him.

Something that resembles concern appears on Prince's’ face and he even takes a shot in consoling him by patting him on the shoulder. This must have made him feel odd but the fact that he tried to push passed that said more about him than anyone else had said. Lawrence began to wipe away his tears. Duke looked at him and hugged him once more in a tight grip. It felt better than Lawrence would ever admit. 

It was just warm, a sound of a strong heartbeat and a smell that wasn’t necessarily pleasant but it wasn’t overbearing, it was musky in a way that resembled lots of work vs. rubbing the nearest plant all over you in an attempt to mask the stench. He could never imagine Duke as unpleasant. Especially now, when he was being so open and kind with him, if he thought too much more about it he’d probably break into tears again. 

  
“My dear, your best bet is to just speak to her,” Duke tells him in the kindest voice imaginable. He can even see Prince nodded profusely, though he doesn’t think he’s  _ that _ concerned he just really wants him to leave so that the two can get back to the “healing process”. He doesn’t blame him though, and he feels the need more now than ever to be with Gala, to make her understand how horrible this has been for them. How much he loves her. Moments later he’s smiling at the boys and dashing out of the tent. His mind makes a beeline for Gala and his body attempts to but something preys over him and he stops dead in his tracks.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

It’s Bella, standing there still as can be glaring into him as if to carve a message into his skin. She does neither, he has to prompt her in order for her to do anything dog like. He sits on his bended knee and starts to speak to her, much like you would a small child. “Bella, are you alright?” She doesn’t respond, obviously, but she also doesn’t try to lead him anywhere or give him any sign of what’s bothering her. She simply lays back down and though he wants to further investigate he keeps his mind on the prize and pushes forward, knowing just where she is and tracks her down where she lays in her tent. 

He bends down to shake her, happy when he sees she was just resting her eyes and not in slumber how much he’d hate to interrupt her peace, a peace she is never guaranteed. Her eyes are tinted red which chips away at his heart but he doesn’t let it affect him too much. “Gala,” he calls to her sweetly as if she is far away with perfect hearing rather than something tangible sitting up right before him. She doesn’t smile, she hardly moves at all. He just takes it as a sign to give her a hug and to stroke her hair back and admire what he’s lucky enough to call his. She leans into his touch and he feels as if he has magic in his fingers and treasure in his hands.

Something so lovely, something so sweet and innocent. Can he keep such a thing pristine and wonderful forever? He doesn’t know, though if he were to guess he could say that he couldn’t because he’s optimistic like that, at least when it came to himself. Not to Gala however.

After a couple moments of silence Gala grips his shoulders and forcefully sits him down, then reaches for his cheek. He likes where this is going and smiles against her palm, she returns it but it doesn’t match the size of his own.

“Will you let me speak, Lawrence?” she asks slowly looking at him fully. She looks frightened but he imagines she’s still nervous they haven’t been intimate very often, as wonderful as it was there was still much room for discovery and Lawrence was happy to lay down and let himself be taken. It didn’t matter what it was, a massage, a couple chaste kisses, touches to his nethers, regardless he’d be on board. 

“Of course, my love, my little one,” he says from his heart. It comes out much more huskily than he intended. When he hears it it doesn’t even sound like it came from him, he’s actually mildly impressed by this and hopes Gala feels the same. Instead her face sinks a bit, it’s only for a moment, she recovers almost immediately and presses on holds his arms in place and hopes he won’t fly away to dreamland. She plants him onto the bed, on solid ground.

“My love,” she starts and her voice cracks. If she’s nervous this is very extreme, Lawrence begins to understand that her intention is not one of mending a past argument, could this be something else? The beginning to an end? The end to something that hasn’t had the chance to flourish? He fears this the most. He can’t even think of anything else except hearing her, and hoping. Hoping, praying, wishing, whatever one has the most chance of working out.

“You’ve been so steadfast, so loyal to me and my comrades. You’ve sustained injury and risked your well being time and time again, I speak for myself as well as the others when I say thank you, loyalty is something I value in everyone especially someone I love.” she says with a very small smile.

Lawrence, despite himself, returns it because when she smiles he can’t hope but do the same. He doesn’t speak, instead he rubs her hand with his thumb as if to say, ‘I’m here for you, completely, always.’ Always is so far away but his heart is in his throat, he’s never been in love all this time he’s been alone. 

He wonders if she too, is lonely? Even when they are so connected and so close. 

He feels distance begin to grow between them, slowly until he might as well be back home, not quite, until he’s back in the Liar’s Province. It feels like the first time he’s thought of that place in the last month. It feels unfamiliar now, though he could pave the entirety of it with his steps, yet he does not long for it. 

Instead he longs for the beauty before him with the saddest look behind her eyes. 

“I value you too my little one,” he says and she giggles. He understands just how silly he seems, how he will just throw out heavy words one right after the other like they are sandbags. Much like tossing hefty cargo he feels great relief in telling her as if to throw off what has been weighing down on him for so long. He’s careful not to weigh her down, but she’s strong.

“Lawrence, you know what we have, I wish I could explore it further but- I’m already dead.”

“Not if we can get you back to King and stop him.”

“It’s just as I said.”

Lawrence shakes his head because his words aren’t being heard, she can hear him but she won’t listen, she can’t imagine any other outcome, she’s given up. He can’t. So he grips her face, very tight and shakes his head so she can see how much he can’t give up on her.

“I’m asking you to do what is impossible for you, to give up your ties to me and live a life free from danger. I didn’t know what this journey would entail but I never wished you to risk your life for me, I cannot and will not ask that of you, you have an entire life waiting for you, a home. I’ve made my bed and I will not have you lie in it with me.”

“I’d be happy to!” he yells at her, sniffling, feeling like if he lets her go than that will be it. He doesn’t want to give up on someone so wonderful, on something that was everything he ever wanted and more, the perfect picture.

“You cannot watch me fall for another man, there is no future in that for you!”

The fact of it is that nobody can stand against King, least of all him, and when he hears her say it, it becomes more real than ever before. It’s either she falls madly in love with someone he despises or she dies. He can’t stand to watch either.

He can’t stand by.

He cannot lie in this bed with her and with King.

He can’t.

He shakes his head, this time not in defiance but in disbelief, in disappointment. 

Gala tries to smile despite the streams that run down her face. “Masamune has always taken care of me, it will continue as it always has been.”

This doesn’t put Lawrence’s mind or heart at ease. It’s not true, he betrayed her. He tricked her as well as his allies and put them all in a world of hurt. He left her in the hands of witches. 

It doesn’t matter though.

It’s her choice.

This cruel fate, or death.

He cannot change her mind, nor will he. 

They’ve known each other for a little while.

This is the man who made her who she is, made her so wonderful.

Perhaps…

Perhaps it is what is best.

Even when he thinks about it, he doesn’t believe it. But he’s going to try to believe it.

He nods once more feeling like there is no other way. His tears have stopped and he can’t shape his feelings, he can’t give them names, he doesn’t know what to do. 

He never did. Perhaps, everything will go back to the way it always was.

Perhaps it will be okay.

Perhaps.

“I hope that this cruel fate you choose, is not worse than the death that awaits you. Even if you choose this you are not free of death instead you would have chosen both,” he tells her, knowing that these are the last words he will share with her.

Gala’s face is unshaken, she knows what he’s doing. Even more so, she knows what she’s doing. Lawrence finds some twisted comfort in that even when his stomach is in his feet. The same feet that are attempting to distance himself. He wants to leave this behind and though starting over should be easy, it doesn’t feel like it. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but he will do it if it’s what she wants.

He does everything he can to keep his feet moving. One after the other, as if he had cinder blocks tied around his ankles. He continues on until he is so far away nothing resembles her. If he could he’d have blindfolded himself all throughout the walk. He mindlessly wonders back to his humble beginnings, trying to not think of her, but he knew it would be a very long time until then.

The Liar’s Province in all its horrific glory, he wants to spit on it. Curse it, as if it taunted him into ever thinking he could leave it. He kicks up the dust with his foot, it’s unphased, it's always been an ugly, dull, and dry place. Nothing would change that, especially not an equally ugly, dull, and dry personality.

No one even knew he had left, he could continue his life as if he’d never left. 

He could see the small window he’d climbed out of when he went to put his 5 silvers away, it felt so long ago now. Even if it wasn’t so.

He wandered aimlessly across the streets, empty, the town filled with distant sounds of people chattering. No one was outside, soaking up the sun or welcoming home. Why would they? Who had he ever been to them? 

Maybe they thought he took his life- maybe they all figured they’d find his body laid out across the road on their way home, they’d make a face and step over him as if he was an old and grey rodent.

Better were they not to acknowledge him. Everyone moves on it seems.

It’s as if his feet lead him all the way to the bar in search of release in some shape and form. He had spent most of his young life here. To the bar he was no different than being a picture on the wall, always there, but didn’t make all that much of an impact if it was moved, replaced, or trashed.

Nothing in the bar was different, everyone was drunk and he filed into the bar like a fly into a door. He sat upon a stool taking up little to no space and taking a bit of any of the food offered. Shoving his face with pint after pint of ale hoping to wash away everything, at the bottom of every bottle was the sad realization that he was both drunk and aware of what was hurting him.

How could he ever hope to forget Gala? He’d never met anyone like her, he felt as if maybe he should have never tried to improve this life, and this his punishment for ever having tried to. 

A pair of eyes began to weigh on him in the middle of his inner monologue. Turning to face them he sees two red eyes, glaring at him. Lawrence tries to not see the young man but it is nearly impossible when they are both huge red orbs digging into him one shovel scoop at a time. “Can I help you?” Lawrence asks hoping the kid will just stop. He doesn’t instead he looks him up once more before saying, “Where have you been?”

Lawrence is beside himself when he hears this. “What?”

“You left, where did you go?” he asks again, this time much more pressing and despite the kid being 13 or so he’s actually a bit intimidated.

“I didn’t leave, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” he retorts immediately.

And Lawrence is, but how does this kid know that? “Look, it’s none of your business! Why are you even here?”

A fool question, young children wandered in and out of here all the time and this child was no different even if Lawrence wanted it to be. He didn't want this kid to keep pressing him about the very thing he’s trying to forget, the thing someone he’s dying to forget.

“I’m looking for my mother,” the kid answers and it all clicks for Lawrence ‘oh yeah, my job- no rest for me it seems.’ Without words or debate Lawrence decides that it’s best he just press on and continue his life as if this winter had never come to be. He climbs down from his bar stool and walks out of the bar with the child.

Once outside the boy digs in his pocket and presents him with a picture. Lawrence takes it and looks at it to humor him. On there is a bust painting of a lovely woman: large eyes, dark hair, red lips. A gem. Much like someone else he wishes he never got to know. He croaks out, “She’s beautiful.” Complimenting her despite not knowing her or needing to, she just happens to be a beauty- picture perfect, someone he’s always longed for. That’s why even though he just needs to refuse it and tell him that he needs DNA in order to track her, he feels so obligated to indulge him. Probably because the boy is so young. He’s always had a weak spot for youngins.

“Do you have a hairbrush of hers?” he asks and the kid doesn’t question him. He looks around as if it will be there on the roads. It’s just a way for him to capture his thoughts before rushing into the nearest house. Lawrence follows after him. There they enter a little house, rundown, unoccupied. He wants to ask why they are in an abandoned house, one he hasn’t seen a single soul enter in all this time.

The kid rummages through all kinds of junk and rubble to find something. After moments of clammer and a few strange looks for Lawrence as he stands outside the rundown house the kid emerges from the mess and finds a broken hair brush and hands the whole thing to Lawrence. He plucks a single hair from it and drops the rest.

Immediately something in his head pings and he motions the boy to follow him which he does without hesitation. How trusting children are, it makes Lawrence sad to think, but thankful for being a good person who wouldn’t take advantage of such a desperate child. He wants to help him as much as he can.

Lawrence comes to a halt at the entrance of a house one that makes the kid look questioningly. It looks accompanied, the lights are on and Lawrence is hesitant for a moment but before he can debate the kid rushes in, and Lawrence right behind him.

It’s empty from what they can see, a couple candles flickering on the sconces on the wall and as they wander into one of the rooms something horrific reveals itself. Lawrence sees it and makes a move to cover up the kids eyes but he pushes them away and approaches it and Lawrence stands in disbelief and disgust.

The woman, as beautiful as she was in her picture, sits with a sword in her abdomen. As she sits in her stool at the table where there sits papers amongst papers. The kid investigates silently before looking to Lawrence with a grimace that makes his entire stomach flip. “Do you know who did this?” he asks him accusingly, his voice shaking.

“I don’t! I’ve never seen this woman before!” he defends himself. This isn’t what he wanted to be accused of such a crime so suddenly. This is what his luck has come to.

“Calm yourself,” he starts swallowing, “I believe you.”

So easily? Lawrence wonders. This kid really was trusting, even if Lawrence really didn’t do it he should want more evidence.

Instead he begins to rummage through the pieces of paper and pauses at one. He picks it up and scans it over.

Lawrence approaches, “What is it?” 

The kid hands it over. “It’s a note.”

Lawrence begins to read. It’s lengthy a note from the woman, it has all the makings of a suicide note adressed to her son. He hands it back to him, with an apology and the kid shakes it off. “It’s alright Lawrence, but if you could, tell me where you’ve been.”

Lawrence is still surprised that he’s that curious does it even matter? It’s so odd, unsettling even that he cares so much almost so much that he doesn’t even want to answer him. It’s odd, too odd.

“Does it even matter? Are you a witch or something?” 

The kid is silent for a moment before whispering, “Just tell me please.”

And Lawrence does, slowly and with an odd tone. “I was hired by King, the leader of the Noble House of Witch Hunters to find the Princess. I did and there I found a witch. The witch made King and Bella disappear and asked me to fulfill the contract of Princess’ wish. Overtime we realized that King betrayed the other witch hunters and put the princess under some love potion. I came back because I can’t watch the woman I love die or fall for another man.” He tells him feeling like he’s being exposed, stripped naked and pushed into someone's house.

The kid’s face shrinks and he looks at the note. “So the King has betrayed us?” he asks and Lawrence looks at him like he just sprouted six heads. Before he can ask anything, the kid looks at him. “Lawrence, my name is Chancellor. Please tell me everything that’s happened.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Lawrence does just that, he tells everything to Chancellor, from the big events, the moments where he thought he was a goner or Gala was. The big and the small, everything that was good and everything that had gone wrong.

Odd, that they talk on the outside of such a horrific scene. Chancellor explains that he hadn’t seen his mother in years and he had already expected such a thing to happen but to have actually confirmed his suspicions really hurt but he’s lost plenty of people on his journeys of being the youngest witch hunter a massive feat for him.

“My power is lie detection, my word is absolute and the witch hunters are all who they seemed to be, I’ve never actually met King but low ranked hunters like me are not allowed to, it all seems like bullshit now though, seeing as you were able to meet him immediately. He’s always been lying and he knew I would say something, odd. He’s had the intention of revealing himself, so I suppose it was all a matter of time.”

“So you just know if people are lying.” he nods.

“Much like how you just instinctively know where people are it works much the same way I know immediately if something is true or false. It’s handy, especially in this neck of the woods where everyone attempts to take advantage of you, and your kindness.” Lawrence nods having lived here is whole life.

“So you’ve lived here all your life?”

“That’s correct, this is the longest I have been here in a long amount time though, I usually am in Awlbar or something. I would say it feels good to be back but as of late I can’t say so.”

Lawrence snickers, “Once you know what’s outside you don’t long for it.”

Chancellor laughs at that, “How is everyone?”

“Up until all this King stuff, they were great- except maybe Marquess he’s still a massive dick.”

“At least he is loyal,” Chancellor tells him, “He’s actually quite a guy- easy for someone like me I know but once he gets rid of that silver tongue he will be a lot more pleasant.”

“One can hope,”

“So do you intend to stay away from all that’s about to take place?”

“What you mean with King and all?”

“Exactly,”

“Well, yeah. I mean, what can I really do? I don’t have him tracked or anything. I’ll just get in the way.”

“I doubt that’s the case, besides there is more to it. Remember you can’t bypass me I always know the truth.”

Lawrence sighs, “Then why ask, I am just scared to lose her.”

“But you already have, now you just have to reclaim her.”

“You say it as if it’s so easy she’s under a spell, in time she will grow to love another and if she doesn’t she will die and I can’t decide which one is worse.”

“Letting fate have her is worse, you will regret not fighting for her, and if it cost you your life than so be it. What is there to lose?”

“She is the only thing,” he realizes and looks to Chancellor before shooting up from his seat, “I can’t let that bastard have her! Her heart is mine, I won’t go down, nor will I continue to fight through this pain! They can’t have her, and she too needs to fight.”

“Good, because you were going regardless.” he tells him with a laugh.

“If one of us is guilty we all are afterall. Besides that bastard killed my mother,”

“I thought it was suicide.”

“It’s true I can’t decipher lies through text but my mother always called me Charles, never Chancellor and King has never known my true name.”

“Seems as if you don’t need that power to begin with.” Lawrence tells him.

“Maybe not, but it is extremely handy.” he tells him.

Lawrence begins to head back to where he came from but Chancellor stops him, “I have a horse, you don’t actually want to walk all the way back?”

Lawrence laughs and the two retrieve a horse and rush off back to where Lawrence had just come from.

When they arrive it’s midday and there everyone is there, except Gala.

“Knight!” Duke cries running over to him, “It’s the Princess, she’s left, we think she went after King.”

“By herself.”

The others nod and Lawrence clenches his teeth, “We have to go after her.”

“Is that Chancellor?”

“How did you find him?”

“He was in the Liar’s Province, he hunted me down actually. I told him everything.”

“Then it’s true!” Duchess exclaims covering her mouth and closing her eyes, “I wished it wasn’t true, and Marquess I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I am so incredibly ashamed.”

“There’s no need sis, we know the truth now so we must act upon it, before it’s too late for all of us.”

Prince nods. “He is strong bastard but if we all work together we should have a fighting chance.”

Lawrence nods.

“Here, Knight.” Prince says handing him his sword and Lawrence looks down at him and in between the two.

“I want you to have it Knight, without you we would have been his pawns for who knows how long.”

Lawrence shakes his head, “I can’t accept such a thing, besides I am pathetic with it.” he laughs.

“Your thanks is enough for me.”

Prince and he exchange a smile. Duke is grinning and handing them both a handkerchief, “My heroes.” he says and everyone shares a short laugh.

“The poor princess, I hope no harm has come to her.” Duchess says.

Marquess shakes his head, “She is the Princess still, she has a better chance than we do.” he reminds them, though it doesn’t put Lawrence entirely at ease he is happy that the others have faith in her. He prays the whole way there.

Praying between the days and nights where no one can sleep and even when they have to rest a feeling on anxiety hangs over them as they anticipate what is to come and how it could all go right, how it could all go wrong. Lawrence doesn’t let his fear stop him instead it fuels him like papers in a fireplace.

He wants to just see her, to tell her that he wants to fight to apologize for not having enough sense to do it before. Lips like the blood of a strawberry and just as sweet, he just has to find her. Off she goes and here he is doing what he’s done best tracking her. He’d track her to the end of this earth, to the depths of the ocean, or across millions of miles between the stars. He will follow her in death and wait patiently. 

He is her knight, she is his Princess. The King may have everything but he cannot have her.

Awlbar is the first time he senses her, it’s the middle of the night and it shocks him into full awakeness and he feels like he’s brought back to life in that exact moment, she’s close. Which could just as easily mean danger is just as close but he throws that out as soon as it comes.

Some of the others are asleep but are pulled out of it when he begins to collect all his stuff before mounting the horse again. Luckily, no one complains. “It’s Gala,” he whispers a couple times and screams it over and over in his head until they begin to move again.

Into the cool and silence of the night. The shivers of anticipation rush through him and the silence should provide comfort but he can hear everything through the scurrying of the forest animals, the padded footsteps of his party members, the clops of hooves against the now stone roads into the vastness of Awlbar huge and foreign the others look at home as they return to their fortress, somewhere Lawrence had never thought of and seeing it in the flesh its vastness.

Stone and its foundation in the ground the descended into what was the dungeon where they found Gala, and she wasn’t alone.

Red hair wild and huge, and the King. Everyone prepares for the worst, he turns to them.

“Welcome back,” he grins and then it’s all a blur.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

When Lawrence wakes up he feels a cool steel on his forearms and around his wrists and ankles, when he looks down his eyes fully adjusting he realizes he is entirely right, he’s locked against the stone wall, he looks around at the others that fill up the rest of the room, the others’ faces are bruised and bloody, some more than others- must be what they got for fighting back. He thinks bitterly.

He feels a small bit of pride when he realizes his face feels sore and smiles inwardly, he wasn’t not going to take on the bastard but to have taken them all down so quickly, it was just unthinkable he’d watched the other hunters absolutely demolish the others. 

It wasn’t a surprise that King was their boss. When he sees Gala beaten and battered just as much he wants to scream, he doesn’t. He knows that King doesn’t value like he does. How could he pretend to love a woman he’d hurt. Everyone hangs their heads low, the only person conscious being Gala.

He feels an odd sense of comfort, alongside him she was, maybe to torture him more but if that was the original plan, it backfired greatly because he couldn’t have been happier.

“Gala,” he calls to her softly and startled she looks to him and smiles meekily, he returns it wishing more than anything he could hold her hand and kiss her forehead.

“Lawrence, I’m sorry.”

He immediately refuses it, “Please, I’m the one who should apologize, I should have never left you.”

“I should have never let you. I’d rather die than be with that monster.”

“I agree, at least this way we can be together.”

“Lawrence, I never wanted you to lose yourself in this.”

“Truth is, I’ve never been more myself.”

“It’s true.” Chancellor adds, which makes Lawrence chuckle and Gala tears up ever so slightly.

One by one the rest of the witch hunters begin to awaken, Duchess groans her nose bloody and her eye completely black. Marquess gets a look of her and laughs, “Sis you look like you got kicked by a horse!”

“You’re not looking much better!” she retorts.

“You’ve never been uglier,” Prince teases, laughing at his own joke.

Duke looks at his own situation and sighs, “King is the last person I ever wanted to put me in this kind of situation.” he half jokes and Lawrence and a few others snicker. “How does my face look?” he asks Prince who grimaces and answers without having to. Duke whines, “I always figured if I met Lady Death I’d be able to charm her providing me a stay in her castle. Looks like I’ll be fed to her dogs instead.” 

“Nonsense,” Prince tries to salvage, “You are the finest of all the scraps.”

“I’m going to be sick,” Marquess gags.

Despite all the joking it’s overwhelmingly melancholic, they understand the severity of this and no matter how many times they try to laugh it off they will ultimately come to the same conclusion.

Prince frowns, “I don’t know what kind of things The King has in mind for me.” that brings the mood down significantly. Duke gives him a sad look, “No,” he says and Prince stops him before he can. “Don’t, I will fight long before I’ll ever succumb to that traitor.” Lawrence agrees with that, he can’t just sit by idly and watch as everything comes to an end.

Almost silly to think of such a thing, seeing as how easy all of them were pummeled, captured, and subdued. There is a good chance that as they talk about all their possibilities King can hear them and will use all of it against them, but Lawrence couldn’t care less, if anything it makes him want to spill as much venom as he can and prays that King will be intoxicated by the fumes. He’s hated the bastard for so long and now that it’s been made clear just how much scum he is he has no problem taking him down a couple notches before he’s put 6 feet under.

“Belcali, are you alright?” Marquess asks and she nods, somehow the calmest of them all.

“Hendel and Aria will be safe with or without me. He’s more than prepared for my passing. He has to be in this line of work.” Lawrence thinks of Hendel then, the man who saved his life the man who adores his wife more than anything, how could he truly survive? Lawrence now can’t even fathom how he ever planned to leave Gala to her fate, leaving her, like this.

“Why the hell did you run off Princess?” Prince seethes, and though it isn’t quite the tone Lawrence would have used he does wonder the same thing.

“I initially planned on leaving so that no one else would be dragged into this, somewhere along my travels I ended up here in an instant.”

“That sounds alot like what happened to Bella and King when I found you in Jaqulier White.” Lawrence tells her.

“It must be the witches’ power,” Duke says easily.

“It isn’t,” Chancellor says and everyone backtracks completely.

“That’s right, if it was the witches’ power than who placed that curse on you?” Lawrence asks and it begins to click in everyone’s heads.

“It’s Masamune’s?”

Chancellor nods. “Yes.”

It dawns on Lawrence and he feels defeated more so then than he has so far, he should have expected it. How could he not have seen it? King sent everyone away and he’d be able to do it, again and again.

Noticing his downtrodden expression Gala calls to him. “No matter where he sends me, you’ll always be able to find me. You must have been his goal, get rid of the only person who can stand any chance against him. Now that I think of it, I should have expected you to show up anyway.”

“I had no intention to come running after you, had Lawrence not come back we would have left you to it,” Prince explains turning up his nose as he does so.

“Who is ‘we’ exactly?” Duchess asks, “I wasn’t just going to leave the Princess, where is your heart?”

“On a stake at the moment,”

_ “Oh I see that,”  _ she responds sarcastically but everyone tried to let it roll off like water on a turtle’s back. Arguing wouldn’t delay anything.

“But every witch power has a weakness,” Chancellor says to them, “I can’t decipher lies through text, Lawrence can’t track without DNA, Duke loses his power when his face is injured. What could be King’s? Quick! Throw out ideas and I should be able to tell which one is correct!”

“He doesn’t know where he sends them!”

“No,”

“He can only teleport one person at a time?”

“No,”

“He-”

“Enough!” roars a voice from the doorway and Lawrence’s feet tighten in their restraints. King stands there as familiar face after familiar face file into the dungeon behind him, the torches on the wall illuminating their inhumanly eyes, slowly he feels himself as well as the others begin to descend into the underworld.

Violet eyes-Anida, green eyes-Robyn, and blue eyes-Mason, there they all are staring blankly into the space. The most lifeless yet the most terrifying he’s ever seen them. King the most of them all; it’s silent for many moments and King much like all their spirits takes much pleasure in breaking it.

“Princess, will you cooperate enough so that I can release you?”

Prince sneers, and Lawrence joins him.

Gala doesn’t respond but she doesn’t refuse either, it must have been enough because in moments she falls with a thud to the dusty floor. She coughs and stumbles onto her feet, it’s the least graceful he’s ever seen her, she looks exhausted. 

How much of a fight could she put up? Maybe she never intended to fight? She looked like a prisoner on their way to execution. Her eyes auburn eyes glossed over, face drooped, hair tattered and tossed every which way.

Lawrence can’t blink, he’s watching closely for everything, anticipating anything to happen, for all to go wrong. Maybe if he can read his body he can help Gala avoid an oncoming attack, just maybe he can buy her seconds.

King reaches back for a witch, he grips Anida’s hand and the other witches flinch- odd.

Anida much like Gala, takes slow steps forward, soon she’s standing before Gala, her hands together as if they were cuffed but they aren’t upon further observation Lawrence realizes something, her hands are shaking like leaves.

“Princess,” he calls to her. Not sweetly, he’s calling to get a response.

“Masamune, ergh uh- King,” Gala responses correcting herself. Something is wrong.

“It’s working,” King smiles, it’s ungodly how his lips unwrap from his teeth. 

Lawrence looks at Chancellor who returns his look and nods answering the question Lawrence hadn’t asked yet, the love potion is working. 

They’ve lost. 

Tears start to fall from Lawrence’s face and onto the floor beneath them. He wants to close his eyes and pretend like it isn’t happening but he can’t. His cries are silent because he can’t bring himself to intake enough air to make a sound.

King notices of course and places a kiss right on Gala who as mindless as she appears returns it robotically. 

It’s silent, the faint sound of lips moving sending chills throughout his body, like the aftermath of puking nonstop. He doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t want to see it, he doesn’t want to live it. He screams but it only makes King laugh.

“Bane, what’s the matter,  _ it  _ was cursed long before I’d done anything. It’s not even truly female nor does _ it _ possess a power, somehow though  _ it  _ managed to surpass all of you lot.”

It, it, It! Why does he keep calling her that? As is if she isn’t the most beautiful person to grace this earth, as if she’s less than human! 

“Is what he’s saying true?” Prince asks, it’s hard to tell what exactly he’s asking in reference to but Chancellor already knows and nods, “Every bit of it.”

“That’s all going to change however,” he yanks Anida by her interlocked hands and looks at Gala in such cruel way, switching from someone who was just sharing affections to someone who has full control over her - “Kill her!” he barks.

It was clear then, this wasn’t for Gala’s heart, it wasn’t for what made her wonderful in every way, he needed a tool, someone capable enough to have a power he could use and have full control over the wielder.

This had to stop.

Duchess collapses to the ground then, easily breaking out of her shackles as if they were tissue she rubs her wrists. “You wanted us to fight then? Since you didn’t even make a proper attempt in restraining us.”

King shakes his head, “There was no need, I do not fear you.” he rushes toward her a sword in his hand slicing toward her stomach, that appears to be all it took but Duchess jumps back, it’s close but she’s still in. She attempts disarm him using her monstrous strength. When he dodges with ease she smacks into the wall restraining Marquess and Duke, they emerge from the rubble and Lawrence smiles. 

3 versus 1 they’ve got a chance.

Not a great one, but a glimpse.

Duke and Duchess rush toward him Duke for the torso and Duchess for the legs, effortlessly King jumps onto Duchess’s arms and dropkicks Duke into the wall, he’s immediately knocked out. 

Duchess is furious and attempts to avenge him by reaching for his leg, instead gets a sword into her shoulder. He pins her to the ground and Marquess screams slinging a knife toward King but he barely dodges it, leaving a bloody line across his cheek in its place. He abandons Duchess on the ground along with his sword and chokes Marquess who squirms in his grasp. But though he is being strangled he doesn’t just struggle, he uses one of his hands to make him suffer, attempting to go for the eyes and when that doesn’t work, swift kicks to the side, and when all of that doesn’t work he headbutts him and grips onto the back of his head to ensure he feels the full impact. In the end he is still being choked, worse than before due to the resistance.

Suddenly it all changes.

“No!” screams one of the witch's her green eyes growing three times their massive size she’s gritting her teeth. There is fear there, but more so there is determination.

“You let him go! You promised you wouldn’t harm him!”

King turns to her, “That petty agreement is of little concern to me,”

Robyn makes a sound, her eyes dart around and then everything becomes still, “Release!” she screams and the comatose Mason is unleashed on King. Mason’s massive size much like Duchess dashes toward him, he releases Marquess and he lays on the ground coughing. 

As Mason grabs King, King swings him into the wall where Lawrence, Chancellor, and Prince are all of them falling.

Lawrence coughs and doesn’t waste a moment.

Duchess grabs the sword in her shoulder and rips it out with a gasp before it clatters to the ground.

Prince takes out his dual blades and spins them into combat rushing toward King who takes on Mason. Duchess and Prince meet eyes attempting to join them.

Anida however quivers in the corner as Gala rushes to King’s aid and clashes swords with Prince.

“Oh! I’ve been waiting years for this Princess!” Prince eagerly battles her, swords clashing again and again they are equals and it shows. 

Sophia shoots water into the fortress that it comes apart from the inside. A mistake, King teleports outside of the fortress and her and Mason attempt to hunt him down. It’s his chance.

Lawrence rushes after him and someone behind him does as well, it’s Chancellor with Anida in his hand he’s pulling her behind him.

“He’s getting away!” Lawrence panicks. Then if on cue something pulls at his ankle, he looks down and its Marquess gripping at his throat with one hand and with the other a handfull of hair, long black strands. 

“It’s King’s!” he yells and Lawrence takes it, astonished. “Tha-thank you,” he mutters out but is quickly shooed off. “Thank me when you are able to hunt down that bastard.”

They rush for minutes Lawrence can sense how close he is but his speed is no joke.

After some running he finds King who realizes it’s only Lawrence and Chancellor who found him. “Fools,”

Lawrence charges forward and is slashed at leaving a gash in his side immediately luckily though, Chancellor was there to distract King so Lawrence could hold it and get out of the way. King slashes toward him and misses, he looks pretty annoyed by this it seems as though he expected Chancellor to be an easier fight. It isn’t,.

Lawrence panics, they are running out of time, the top witch hunter’s already were taken down by King- Chancellor doesn’t have very long. He looks to Anida who is on her knees with tears.

“Hey!” Lawrence calls to her. “Anida,” he attempts again.

“What is it tracker? What do you want?” she asks afraid.

“You have to help us!”

“I can’t,” she says attempting to shoot him down.

“You can and you have to!” he tells her, reaching for her hand, “I’m begging you.” she snatches it out of his grip. “I will be killed for helping you,”

“You are already dead, Gala will kill you to gain your power.”

“What would you have me do? I can only work with contracts and conditions.”

“You have to fight! You can’t just let him kill you like your cattle!”

Anida looks worried, “I’m scared,”

“As am I, but we can’t just let him have his way.”

Anida nods and the two rush to help Chancellor who looks exhausted, “Fool child,” he spits at Chancellor, ‘You are the lowest ranked among us, you’d have to spend forever before you could stand in the same ring as me.” He knocks Chancellor back, his child body unable to take a grown man’s impact.

Lawrence rushes over and right into King’s hand that begins to strangle him, “And as for you, give up! The Princess is lost, and this battle you fight will end like it was always meant to, you will have nothing to miss you, no life, no wealth.”

Lawrence glares as he grabs at his iron fist. He kicks but doesn’t connect with anything, he starts to feel light headed and he panics.

All of a sudden King screams in pain and his hand let’s go. It’s hard to tell but King turns to look at Anida and the wound in his side and takes both hands grabs her face twisting one time, there is a crack, and then a thud. Her head, the red eyes looking at him as he lay on the ground.

King looks around as if he just lost something. He did, one really big thing.

Now who’s the fool?

“Noooooo!” he screams

Lawrence realizes the fulll extent of this, after everything, it’s finally over.

Gala is no longer under his control, and the power he planned to pass to her also is gone.

They won.

He runs, and Lawrence doesn’t chase him, nor does anyone else. 

The King has fallen.


	20. Chapter Twenty/Epilogue

Everyone lays beaten in the destroyed fortress and Lawrence can feel King’s presence grow further and further away. He collects the pieces. 

The most important being Gala who is not only alive but herself. 

Lawrence thanks Anida from where ever it is she is, her sacrifice was their saving grace.

Robyn mimics Lawrence and begins to tend to Marquess that hangs over his shoulder. His eyes grow soft when he sees her, Lawrence understands then what it is they share for the first time in all this time.

“Lawrence, this is Robyn-” Marquess jokes, Robyn apologetically looks at Lawrence, 

“Don’t worry about me,” he says holding up his hands.

Duchess stands right behind her and she turns immediately spooked by her gigantic presence. “I need to thank you, as well as apologize.” Robyn shakes her head, “That’s not necessary- it is I who should apologize, I took every measure to protect Marquess even hurting his love ones in the process.”

Duchess smiles, at a witch, no, Robyn and grabs her shoulder, “Just know you will need more than a balcony to get rid of me if you ever hurt him,” she warns but the tone is light, Lawrence already knows Robyn doesn’t want to hurt him, even if everyone else does, well did. He’s not so bad afterall.

Looking over Prince and Duke are pointing at their scars and presenting each one to one another. Lawrence can’t hear them but their gazes are all he needs to understand.

Gala tugs at his sleeve and he looks down to see her smile and he takes her into a tight embrace and sways her, before he knows it tears are in the dip of his shirt.

“I was so scared I’d lost you,” he whispers to her.

She removes herself from his chest and captures his lips. There is a resounding sound of gasps and laughter. It’s a beautiful sound, a perfect sound. 

The night goes on silently, chatter and realization trying to make sense of what should come next. No one knows but no one seems all that worried.

“You truly are a Knight it seems,” Prince says then from where Gala and Lawrence sit. “Is that flattery?” Gala asks.

“No, but this is, Princess you are worthy of your placement among us, as unfortunate as it is without a witch power you are of remarkable strength, I was never a match for you.”

Gala smiles, “I just didn’t want you to ever beat me.” Lawrence and Duke laugh,

“Can we play nice now, because I’d love to come visit Lawrence at his little house on the hill.” Duke said.

“Well I don’t have it yet,” Lawrence says, “Besides I’m still ridiculously broke,”

“That may be true but my orphanage is desperately in need of caretakers, they also provide a place for you to stay if you’d like.”

“That just sounds like you want to be rid of that old priss Mrs. Habershire.”

“Most definitely,”

Lawrence considers this, he’d never thought of such a thing.

“Would you join me, Gala?”

Gala nods, “Of course,”

Duke pouts, “Now you’ll be surrounded around children! How many drinking parties can we have in a place like that?”

“Well it is the Liar’s Province,” Gala adds. Chancellor agreeing.

“Ugh! No, no Lawrence you have got to get out of there, I’d offer you a job and a place in Costa, it is much better there.”

“You say it as if Costa is so fine, it’s just the Liar’s Province surrounded by water.” Prince tells him.

Duke gasps.

“Besides Bella is really good with children.” Gala tells Lawrence.

“Now you are trying to be rid of me.” Duke cries, “And after all we’ve been through,”

“Dramatic much?” Marquess chastises with Robyn under his arm, “Just don’t forget about us when you guys are busy making babies, well ergh maybe just taking care of them…”

Gala laughs, “We’d end up at an orphanage eventually.”

Lawrence smiles at the thought.

“Feel free to visit us 3 anytime.”

Duchess nods, “Also stop by every once in awhile, Hendel may never admit it but I’m sure he will ask about you.”

Lawrence doubts that and does everything he can not to say so, because it is a nice gesture.

“What about the Noble House Witch Hunters?”

“Forget it, no money is worth all of this-” Duke exclaims and the others all agree in their own way.

“Hendel has been begging me to do more, practical work for awhile now, perhaps I’ll actually listen.” Duchess says with a sunny grin.

“If I wanted to get beaten to a pulp everyday I would just be a gladiator, I think the pay is much more consistent anyhow,” Prince says and Duke seems to like that idea, “I’ll place my bets.” They exchange a smile and something about it tells Lawrence everything he needs to know about their relationship and how it's going to work- most likely that it will last forever. 

“It would be nice to actually be a kid for once,” Chancellor tells Lawrence then, seemingly out of nowhere. Lawrence flashes him a grin, he is more than willing to let him do just that; so much so that he will go out of his way to make sure he can undo all the wrong thus far. If such a thing is even possible, regardless he will try.

Lawrence looks over at Marquess who is the most calm he’s ever seen. So calm in fact that he doesn’t even look like himself. 

He has him to thank for this.

“Marquess,” Lawrence starts, he’s stopped a moment later,“You’re not going to get all sappy on me are you Knight?”

“Well, I wanted to thank you for helping me convince Anida back there. It might have gotten really ugly if you hadn’t been there.” Lawrence tells him honestly.

“I wouldn’t go that far, I’ve never been known for my persuasion, charm maybe, but I think she would have been swayed even without the interference, you can’t get anyone to do anything they didn’t really want to do afterall. You treated a witch like a human being- that’s all they want, it’s all anyone wants.”

Lawrence understands, looking back at it now, the worst of this journey was due to a human all along, he used love and loyalty to manipulate them- a very human thing to do. His aunt wasn’t that great but she was bitter not spiteful. He wondered then what she would have made of all of this- how she’d feel to know that her kind who’d always been made out to be demons had saved the day. Hell, even a half witch managed to befriend an entire band of witch hunters. 

Ironic.

Good.

No one likes a cliche afterall.

#  Epilogue

Lawrences’ house wasn’t too tall or grandiose it was compact though and easy to sweep, some of the floors were bent in such a way the dirt rolled into certain key spots, once the two learned them the chore became ridiculously easy. 

Gala even tied a cloth wrap over her head while she did, whilst Lawrence did outside work around the house he’d be sure to steal a kiss, or a hug, or a glance at his beloved bride between work.

Sometimes he was greeted with a glass of squeezed juice, Chancellor at his heels so they could share a toast and get the remainder of the work completed before the storm threatened to interrupt them just before they could finish. Worst, this was no small shower, it was going to be the strongest of the storms this season.

He made sure to bard the doors and check for any weak points in his fortress. Though there shouldn’t be even a single one, he’d agonized over the smallest details to ensure that it could withstand even the most nightmarish of weather patterns.

Not to mention the cellar he’d cleverly included, he’d loaded some dried scraps of meet and pickled veggies into it for a couple days if need be.

When the winds started to slam the doors shut was the war drums sounding in warning, Gala knowing full well what it was led Bella and Chancellor inside alongside her. Lawrence would be the last to enter using the last crucial moments to gather anything they might have overlooked and make sure there wasn’t anything he’d overlooked.

Gala called to him when he underestimated the wind tripping him up every once in awhile but he’d get back up and in those last moments file into the cellar and shut the door.

The sounds of horrible winds surround them and the door threatens to fling open but their combined strength is more than the storm can contend with.

Now the test.

Gala places a small kiss on Lawrences shoulder and scratches Chancellor’s head. They do all they can not to worry, to be confident in all their combined work. And pray to whatever they need to to ensure their house still stood there in one piece when they emerged the following day.

The night would be a hard one but they found comfort in the fact that no matter the verdict they all stood there together and could always redo it again and again.

Lawrence and Gala opened the door when it had been silent for many hours. The golden rays of the sun casting down on everything and on their adjusted eyes, when they were able to make sense of it all they saw the gold cast over the entirety of their house, stood triumphant.

There was many sighs of relief and a conjoined cheer.

They all emerged and kissed the ground and each other.

Lawrence overtaken by the beauty of the morning and his beloved lifts her and spins her around, she’s making sounds of surprise and joy. There the best sounds. He embraces her and squeezes her so tight he shakes from relief and soon tears. He stamps kisses all around her face making her squirm and giggle from within his grasp, he’s so happy to be alive.

It was then he found himself shoulders deep forever submerging in their own version of paradise.

  
  



End file.
